Beating the Odds: The 47th Hunger Games
by katzsoa
Summary: When the odds are stacked against you, it takes a lot to survive. What will it take to win? Speed? Strength? Or are the odds completely out of your control?
1. Welcome!

The 47th Hunger Games.

Three years before Haymitch even came into the picture and nearly thirty years before Katniss and Peeta did. Public figures such as Claudius Templesmith, Caesar Flickerman, and President Snow are still young. There is little talk of rebellion, because there are still those people, although they are few, who were alive during the Dark Days and remember the unbelievable loss of District 13. For now, all there are is the Games, the arenas, and the yearly twenty-four tributes.

Now, why am I taking up nearly an entire chapter as basically one long Author's Note, which so many readers detest? I will tell you: this fic is going to be like no Hunger Games fic that I have found on this site yet! It will be a combination of different parts.

Firstly, this story will mostly be told from the point of view of six tributes, whom you will meet later. Each of these characters has been written by me and will have at least a paragraph of perspective in every chapter. Unless, of course, they have died.

Secondly, you, the reader, will get to watch parts of this Hunger Games as the people of Panem would, complete with commentary by Claudius Templesmith and his guest commentators! I also have plans for at least one look inside the room where the mentors meet and sponsorships are signed. (No external sponsors, sorry. You guys just get to be citizens this time around.)

Thirdly, this is also partially a Submit-Your-Own-Character Games. I do need some characters…most of whom will, regretfully, die in the bloodbath. (Sorry about that.) Here's the submission form, with a few extra requirements for certain Districts to help the plot along. Feel free to submit multiple tributes. Might I recommend that you take a peek at FoalyWinsForever's _A Guide to Not Making Your Tribute Suck_ before submitting? Not only is it very helpful, but it is also very fun to read! I will try to choose the tributes based on quality, but I will admit that sooner is better.

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* * *

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**Tribute Submission Form Removed. All Tributes Have Been Selected.**

* * *

So, there you have it!

One last thing: this fic is rated T. If you think that Suzanne Collins's original Hunger Games series would be rated T if it were on this site, then you'll understand why I am rating this T. There will be occasional gore, sadistic actions, death, and a few other serious topics will be discussed.

For now, here's a bit of a beginning!

* * *

**BROADCASTING LIVE FROM THE CAPITOL**

**Claudius Templesmith: **Good morning, Panem! This is Claudius Templesmith, and I simply cannot express my complete and utter enthusiasm to be back once again to help host the Forty-Seventh Annual Hunger Games! The Gamemakers have been hard at work all year to ensure that these Games are just as—if not more!—exciting as every single Game ever played. This year, I am honored to have Sartorius Mastorian, Yvanna Englass, and Calliope Pringlehopper as my guest commentators!

_[The guest commentators respond enthusiastically as the camera brings them into view.]_

**Sartorius Mastorian: **Morning, Claudius!

**Yvanna Englass: **Hel-_lo_ Panem!

**Calliope Pringlehopper: **Ooh, this is going to be a great year. I can feel it!

**CT: **So can I, Calli. The anticipation is killing me!

**YE: **Me, too. I'd bet that the same goes for all of the folks in the Districts as well as our friends right here in the Capitol!

**CP: **Well, luckily for us all, today's the big day: the Reapings!

**CT: **Right you are, Calli! In just a few minutes, we'll get to watch the Reaping in District One. _[More serious] _But first, let's take a moment from all this merriment to remember the reason behind the Hunger Games. Let us recall the Dark Days, when the people of the Districts forsook the Capitol and attempted to ruin the peace and order that held a once-fragile nation together. In their rebellion, their only success was in nearly destroying themselves. District 13 is no more as an example of this self-destruction. And so, to remind the people of the Districts of Panem of the futility in trying to break the ties between them and the Capitol, and of the importance that those ties remain for the good of us all, we have the Hunger Games. Thank you. _[Back to his previous excitement] _Now, Sartorius, what's there to say about civilian betting?

**SM: **Well, Claudius, while there aren't many facts to go on yet, reports of bets are already coming in. The odds of at least half of the tributes being under fifteen years of age is nearly five to one in some of the Upper Districts. And that's a gamble, Claudius, considering that older contenders have more entries than younger ones when it comes to getting reaped.

**CP: **Now, _that _seems like risky betting! Going against the odds like that, I mean.

**YE: **Well, as I recall, there were quite a few twelves in last year's Games. The odds can tell a lot, but they can't predict the future. That's the thing with the Hunger Games, they're practically unpredictable!

**CT: **That they are, Yvanna, and that's what makes them so exciting! Well, the time has come for the Reapings to begin! Happy Hunger Games, and…

**All: **…may the odds be _ever _in your favor!

* * *

**A.N.: **Yeah, so their names are kind of wacky. That's the Capitol for you.


	2. Before

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! Well, maybe you haven't been, but here are the six characters whose points of view will narrate most of the story!

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

The knife leaves my hand and slices through the air, hitting the target exactly in the center. I smirk. I hadn't even been paying attention to my throw that time.

"Good," my father shouts from behind me. "But not good enough. You relaxed too soon. The Reaping is less than a week away, Shimmer! You can't let off on the gas now!"

I frown slightly and pick up another knife from the rack next to me. I test its weight and then realign myself with the target. My arm whips backwards, then forwards, and I hear a satisfying thud and a few shocked gasps.

My aim was perfect, as usual. It was even more than perfect. This knife had split the first knife down the center of its hilt, sticking firmly in the blade.

I turn to look at the other teenagers in the gymnasium. None of them are training—or "working out" as it was called, because it's against the rules to "train" for the Hunger Games. All eyes are on me, or on the target. I return their gazes calmly but coldly, and most glance away quickly.

"You are ready," my father says. I nod.

"Shimmer Argent," I say. "Winner of the 47th Hunger Games."

No one contradicts me. No one tells me to not be cocky. They _know._ I have been preparing for this year my entire life. I will not be denied.

"And if someone else volunteers before you do?" my father prompts.

I walk up to the target and pull the knife from where it was firmly lodged. It doesn't take much effort. Not only can I aim, but I'm also strong.

"Then this little beauty will find its way into her heart," I say, tossing the knife into the air, watching it spin, and catching it again.

A few girls glance at each other fearfully. I grin.

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

The cheers of my classmates are loud in my ears as my opponent and I circle each other. I lunge forward, making the first strike and knocking the slightly smaller boy to the ground. He responds by kicking me in the chest. I grunt in discomfort but wrap my arms around his torso and squeeze. His struggles slowly weaken as the air leaves his lungs.

"You give?" I ask. He nods. The small crowd around us cheers as I stand up, letting him slink away.

When it comes to fights, I'm the school favorite. For good reason, too—I have size and strength on my side, and I enjoy the exercise.

"Rockin' as usual, Carn!" my buddy Hal says, coming up for a high five. "That kid never had a chance."

"Yeah," I say, returning the gesture. "You know, sometimes I wonder if there's really any more challenges out there."

"Well, there is _one_," Hal points out as we head off the schoolyard and down the street towards our houses. "There's always the Games."

"The Hunger Games?" I glance at him in surprise.

"No, the board games. Of course the Hunger Games!" Hal says. "You're the best fighter I know. You volunteer, and you become a legend forever."

"I don't know…" I say. "Almost everyone in the Games dies."

"We're eighteen, Carn!" Hal exclaims, stopping in his tracks and crossing his arms. "This is your last chance for glory. What's next for you here? Working in factories, making weapons that you'll never get to use? Or running around in the mines? You could probably get a job as a Peacekeeper, but do you want that, or eternal glory? Do you want to live the rest of your life as just another guy, or do you want to show the world what you can do?"

I shake my head. "Let me think about it."

"You do that," Hal says. We start walking again.

"You know," he continues. "We've been best buds since the first grade. I know what you're capable of, Carn. And you could be something. You could be something incredible."

"I'm gonna think about it," I say again. But suddenly there's a picture in my head of me standing on the victor's stage, and President Snow putting the crown on my head, and the crowd going wild.

**XXX**

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

I tie a final knot on the net I'm crafting, but my mind isn't on my work. It's on the event that's coming in four days: the Reaping.

Two bowls of paper slips, one of which holds my fate. Three slips of paper, to be exact. The odds seem slim, but I know not to be so confident. Just two years ago, my friend Rachel was selected. We were twelve, with one slip each. Boy volunteers are common in my district, but it isn't so for girls. Rachel died in the bloodbath. It's been two years since I watched her die, a mace buried in her skull, but I'm still afraid. Anything could happen.

What will I do if my name is called? How will I react? I have no idea. The concept of maybe never seeing my mother and father again, of never again making a net or successfully landing a fish, of putting my life on the line for the entertainment of my nation, is completely alien to me.

I fold the net carefully, placing it on my lap and glancing up at the setting sun. The view from the docks is breathtaking. Every evening, the sun makes its descent into the ocean, turning the sky and water vibrant shades of yellow, orange, and red. I fiddle with the blue headband holding my long, auburn hair out of my eyes, wondering what the sunsets are like in the Capitol. There's no way that they could be as beautiful as those here.

_Please don't let it be me, _I silently beg the setting sun. _Oh, please, don't let it be me who has to leave. Don't let it be me who has to die._

The sun makes no response, only sliding below the water's surface and letting darkness fill the space it left behind.

**XXX**

**Landon Meddel, 16, District 8**

_Three…Two…One…_

The foreman blows his whistle, ending the work day right as the minute hand on the clock made contact with the twelve at the top of the circle. I make a final cut on the fabric that will eventually become a Peacekeeper's uniform and set it in the bin for the sewers to handle the next day. Our pockets are checked as we leave to make sure that we aren't sneaking away any scissors or needles, but, as usual, no one is stopped.

I scan the crowd for the face of the girl I haven't seen since lunch break, since she works at the sewing machines. I catch a glimpse of her long, raven-black hair as she undoes the bun she has to keep it in while inside the factory, and my heart leaps. Now, as I hurried to catch up with her, her hair cascades down her back in elegant waves.

"Gabrielle!" I call, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turns around, her mouth widening into a joyful grin as her sky-blue eyes meet my own dark-blue.

"How was work?" she asks, slowing to walk beside me. The fingers of her right hand wiggle invitingly, and I slide my hand down her arm until my fingers fill the spaces between hers.

"Same as usual," I reply, "but McCarthy dropped a box on Yurin's toe, and I think I learned some new vocabulary as a result."

Gabrielle laughs, and I can't help but smile at the merry sound.

_I love her so much…_

"You got any plans for tonight?" she asks.

"Not really," I say. "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," she says. "Just a walk."

"Like we're doing now?"

She shrugs. "Maybe a bit different than what we're doing now."

"You mean like this?" I place my arm around her, pulling her closer to me.

"Yeah, something like that." Gabrielle rests her head on my shoulder.

We walk for a while, "accidentally" making the wrong turn on the way back home.

"You know what the day after tomorrow is," Gabrielle whispers suddenly.

"The Reaping," I say. "You're not worried that you're going to get picked, are you?"

"A bit," she admits. "I'm more worried that…well…that _you're _going to get picked."

I stop walking.

"Hey, Gabby, look at me," I say. She obeys, her eyes tearing up.

"It's not going to happen, Gabby," I assure her. "I mean, how many times have we each signed up for tesserae? None, that's how many. We each have our names in there five times. Five each out of how many thousand? We're going to be all right, Gabby. I promise."

She nods, but a tear still slides down her cheek. I pull her close and kiss her, putting all of my hope and confidence into that kiss.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

_Sunlight through the treetops_

_Glittering, glimmering_

_Twisting 'round the leaves and_

_Lightly gracing the grass_

I smile to myself as the words come to my mind.

_Fliers in the branches_

_Twittering, flittering_

_Flapping overhead now_

_Singing praises sky-high_

It's good to have my words, especially when I need to not think about something…today's something being the Hunger Games.

_Rainbows in the dewdrops_

_Sparkling, flickering_

_Temporary beauty_

_Wonderfully fragile_

Temporary. Fragile. Like everything else is, especially tomorrow morning, when I won't be wandering the woods and making up poetry, but standing among the other fifteens and dreading that my name might be drawn out of a glass ball.

_Not that I have any reason to worry, _I remind myself as I turned to head back towards the houses, where I know that my mother and father are waiting for me to come home. They respect my need for solitude and thought when I am troubled. _There's the Plan. The Plan I've had ready since I was twelve. Even if I get chosen, the odds will be in my favor. They have to be._

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

As I drop through the trees, the mockingjays trill and jabber, upset that I am bothering them without much evident purpose. But I'm excited, as I always am at the end of the work day. Today, I am even more so—we get a day off tomorrow because of the Reapings.

Sure, it's my first year actually being eligible to be reaped, but I'm not worried. I have five entries—one for me, and four tesserae, for myself and each of my family members. Plenty of people have more, so why worry? It's always been difficult for me to worry, especially when I'm on my way home.

I hit the ground and hurry to the deposit station, where I quickly hand over my gathering bag. The Peacekeepers search me for smuggled fruit, but I was soon free to go. I take the shortest path I know back through the trees, humming to myself in time with my running footsteps. By the time I reach my house, I'd made up a verse to go along with the notes.

_That'll make Anthea laugh, _I think as I push the front door open.

"I'm home!" I call. "Mom? Thea?"

"Briar!" my adorable little monkey of a sister squeals, nearly knocking me over with a running hug.

"Hey there, silly! Is Dad home?" I ask.

"Not yet," my mother says as she enters the room to wrap her arms around the two of us. "Come and help me put dinner on the table."

"I've got a song for you, Thea," I say as we get out plates and forks.

"Sing it, Briar! Sing it!" she begs.

"_Said the bird to the tree, 'I just swallowed a bee! You can't imagine the sting that's inside of me!' Said the tree to the bird, 'Now, don't you say a word! When you're made up of splinters, that's a sting, so I've heard!_"

Anthea laughed so hard she nearly dropped the plates she was holding. My mother shakes her head, but she's smiling.

_Just like any other day at home in District 11. Too busy and too happy to worry_. I can't see myself anywhere else.


	3. Reaped!

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

I normally wear short sleeves, to show off my well-developed arms, but today I pull on a long-sleeved, icy-blue tunic over black, skintight leggings. The sleeves are an unfortunate necessity—even in District One, the concept of a civilian carrying a weapon into a public area is frowned upon. Not that I expected to actually have to use the throwing knife I was sliding up my sleeve, far up enough to go unnoticed, but not too far up to be easily accessed. My threat was enough to keep the rabble in line.

_But still, _I think, whipping my arm around and propelling the knife across the room, where it lodges firmly in the wall at heart-level. _It would be very satisfying to score a kill before I even enter the arena._

I retrieve the knife and conceal it again, and then I glance at myself in the mirror as I tie my long, blonde hair back in a ponytail. From my hair, to my muscular flesh under my pale skin, to my eyes, icy-blue like the tunic, I am beauty. _Deadly _beauty.

My parents and I walk silently side-by-side to the town square, where the Reapings are always held. District One's Reapings are early in the day, before breakfast. But it didn't matter, because I would eat on the train.

I turn to go towards the other eighteens, and my father places his hand firmly on my shoulder.

"This is the defining moment of your life," he hisses into my ear. "Don't mess it up."

"I won't," I replt. He nods and lets me go.

The crowd of teenagers parts to let me in, and I note that several other girls had their hands firmly in their pockets or clasped behind their back, to make sure that I didn't even think that they were going to volunteer. I almost want to laugh at their obvious fear.

As the mayor steps up onto the stage and begins to speak, I scan the boys for eligible partners. There were plenty of strong, able-bodied males. But did any of them have the fortitude? The bloodlust? The craving for victory at any cost, to see your victims lying in the dirt, broken and bloodied?

I turn back to the stage as Pleaton Danalander, our current Capitol escort, looking _beyond _ridiculous in a tall, purple wig that went _horribly _with his neon-orange suit, thrusts his hand into the girl's bowl.

"The girl tribute for District One is—"

"I volunteer!" I declare before he even finishes his sentence. "I, Shimmer Argent, volunteer!"

The crowd visibly relaxes as I stride up to the stage.

"Well, isn't this exciting!" Pleaton gushes. "And now for the boy…"

"That would be me!" a deep voice calls. "Me, Phenom Spectral! I volunteer!"

A few guys cheer and slap Phenom on the back as he passes them on his way to the stage. I raise an eyebrow as I look him over. He's an eighteen, too—I've seen him in the gymnasium, training. He's decent with a sword, and of a formidable height. But he is neither more skilled with a blade nor taller than me. Still, he would have to do.

When Pleaton tells us to shake hands, he squeezes it, trying to gauge my reaction to his strength. I stare at him right in the eyes, confident and intimidating. He attempts to hold my gaze for a few seconds, but then he grins slightly and drops my hand.

I smirk. _No one _can hold my gaze. This boy would be useful, but he would be easy enough to kill when the time came.

* * *

**Landon Meddel, 16, District 8**

I knock on the door to Gabrielle's house, and her mother answers the door.

"Hello, Landon," she kindly greets me. "I'd ask you to come in, but we're about to leave."

"That's all right," I reply. "I was hoping to escort Gabrielle to the square."

Mrs. Oriot smiles. "Of course," she says, stepping aside. "Gabrielle," she calls. "Landon's here."

Gabrielle enters the living room, looking more beautiful than ever in a floor-length red dress. I reach out and take her hand. Looking closely at her face, I can tell that she's been crying.

"Don't worry," I whisper, tucking her hair behind her ears so that I could see her eyes. "We're going to be all right."

She nods, but still looks fearful.

"After the Reapings, then tell me that we'll be all right," she replies.

We walk in silence to the square, where I kiss her on the cheek before we go to our separate genders' groups. It isn't required to stand with your gender, but it's a tradition in our District.

I can't even hear the mayor talking over the constant mantra in my head.

_Don't let it be Gabby. Don't let it be me. Don't let it be Gabby. Don't let it be me…_

I'm so preoccupied that I don't see the escort approach the glass balls and take out a slip of paper, but the next two words she says bring me back down to earth, hard.

"…Gabrielle Oriot!"

_What? No! It can't be!_

But there she is, my Gabrielle, pale and trembling with terror, tears streaming down her face as she walks up to the stage.

_No! NO! Somebody, anybody, don't let her go! Stop her! Volunteer! DO SOMETHING!_

But no one answers my silent plea, and the escort turns to the boys' drawing.

Suddenly, Gabrielle's eyes meet mine, and I know what I have to do.

"I VOLUNTEER!" I shout as loudly as I can, so that they must hear me as I struggle to the front, they _have _to hear me, because that is my Gabrielle who is up there, who needs me... "_I VOLUNTEER! Gabby! Gabby!"_

"Landon!" she cries, choking on her tears. "Landon, no, please…"

"Landon Meddel," I gasp to the escort before wrapping my arms around my Gabrielle, who is shuddering and sobbing.

"We'll be all right," I whisper. The Reapings are over, and now I have to promise her. "We'll be all right. We'll be all right. We'll be all right…"

* * *

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

"And the girl tribute of District Nine is…"

I shift my focus from trying to find a word that rhymes with "bug-eyed" for the extremely unflattering poem I was mentally constructing for Minnie Yulstoad, the escort, to what she was saying.

"…Kayla Rakkor!"

For a few dreadful seconds, I am paralyzed. _That's me! Oh, Lord…!_

_The Plan, Kay! _a voice in my head urges. _The Plan! Stick to the Plan!_

I slump, shifting all of my weight to my left leg. I gently push my way out of the crowd, which parts to let me by, and limp up to the stage. My right leg drags, with an appearance of lameness I had been perfecting for years.

No one offers to help me up the stairs to the stage, but I make my slow way up with the air of someone who is determined to overcome their personal obstacles. Minnie gives me a pitying smile before moving on to the boys' drawing.

I keep my eyes down, not looking at my fellow people of District Nine. Only my parents knew about the Plan, and what I hoped playing the wounded prey would get me. _As long as no one calls me out on it first…_

"…Bergamot Palentia!"

A girl cries out softly, and I hear a soft thud as she faints and hits the ground. I glance up. Bergamot hesitates, and almost goes to the girl, but instead steps up to the stage.

While the mayor reads the Treaty of Treason, Bergamot—I remember hearing his friends at school calling him "Iceburg"—alternates between looking for the girl, who slowly recovers and then stares up at him in disbelief and despair, and at me, and my leg. He raises an eyebrow quizzically at one point.

_Does he know that it's a façade? _I think. _I'd better talk to him, as soon as possible. He _must _keep it a secret!_

I try to imagine how we look, what I will see later when they show the recap of the Reapings.

_Him_

_Heightened, strengthened_

_The leader of the hunt_

_His chest embroidered with_

_The markings of his kills_

_Her_

_Shrunken, weakened_

_The victim of the hunt_

_Her ragged clothes a burden_

_To her failing little leg_

Perfect.

* * *

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

"I knew you'd volunteer, Carn!" Hal laughs. "I knew it! You're going to rock these games!"

"Yeah!" I say, trying to sound excited. I keep alternating between excitement and anxiety. It seems like it was a different Carn Hurdy who shouted his name and strode up onto the stage, who shook Thera Adrastea's hand, who determined that she seemed tough enough to be at least a temporary ally. And now, it's the other Carn Hurdy who's sitting in the Justice Building, listening to Hal, wearing the gold ring that his mother had wordlessly handed to him when the time came to say goodbye, trying to figure it all out.

"I'll be watching, man," my best friend promises. "I'll be watching, and I'll be cheering. And when you become the victor, I'll be the first in line to welcome you back home."

Hal's excitement is contagious. I give him a confident nod.

"See you in a few weeks," I say as the Peacekeepers come in to take Hal out.

"Less than that," is his reply. "You _got _this, Carn! You _got _this!"

Pictures run through my head. An enormous crowd cheering me on. Victims begging for mercy as I squeeze the life from them or break their necks. And the crown, the victor's crown, being placed upon my head…

_I got this, _a voice in my head repeats. _I got this! I can be the victor, I know I can!_

* * *

******Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

I am terrified. All I can do when my mother and father come in to say good-bye is hold onto them and cry my eyes out.

"I can't do this!" I sob.

"Yes, you can!" my father says, rubbing my shoulders. "And you must!"

"I don't have any skills," I insist.

"You can swim," my mother points out. "You can fish. You're smart, Ashley. You'll figure it out."

"I can't leave you," I beg. "Please, don't let them take me away."

There's nothing that they can say to that. There's no happy, fix-all answer that will make it so that the slip of paper had someone else's name on it, or that someone volunteered for me, like Lucas Tandem had. He scared me. He was huge, and he looked ready to squash me like a bug.

"Wear this into the arena," my mother says, touching my headband. "Blue, like the ocean on a beautiful day. Wear it and think of home. You'll be back before you know it."

I nod, and then I cry more until the Peacekeepers come to take my parents away and me to the train. Then I stop crying, and everything just feels numb.

* * *

******Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

My father looks more lost than I have ever seen him, and my mother is crying no matter what joke I try to tell her. The past hour seems unreal. _Did they really say my name? Do I really have to go?_

Only Anthea seems unaffected. "You're going to win, Briar," she says. "You have that big girl to take care of you."

She's too young to understand that District partners are not a team. She doesn't get that I probably will not return home after I step on the train.

But I smile regardless. "Yeah, Thea," I say. "Say, I'll make up a song for you about the Capitol, and at the interviews I'll sing it to you over the television. Won't that be fun?"

"Oh, yes!" Anthea giggles, wrapping me up in a hug. "Yes, yes, yes!"

The Peacekeepers come in then, to take my family away. I suddenly feel frightened, but I don't let them see it.

"We love you, Briar!" my mother sobs. "We love you so much!"

"I love you too!" I call as they're pulled out of sight, very likely for the last time.

The Peacekeepers take me to a car, where Anise is already seated. Anise Leenan, fifteen, her face as devoid of emotion as it was when our escort called her name. One hand fiddles with a green bracelet around her left wrist. Anthea was right in saying that she was a big kid. Her legs are very long.

She doesn't look at me at all during the ride, but she seems oddly familiar, even though I know she doesn't work in the orchards …

It hits me just as the car pulls up to the train station. _She's the running girl._

One morning, a few years ago, I woke up extra early for some reason and decided to step outside. At first I thought that I must the only person awake in the entire District, but then I saw her standing at the top of the incline that our house was on. She stood there for several moments, silently contemplating the slope, and then she sprang. Her strong, lengthy legs carried her swiftly down the slope and off into the distance, turning around houses, occasionally doubling back in her run. I had never seen anyone move that quickly with so little effort! And as she passed me, the breeze from her incredible speed sweeping back her long, dark brown hair, I saw her smile in complete and utter joy.

Such a smile isn't gracing her face now.

The car doors open, and we are instantly surrounded by reporters and cameras. I force a smile and wave at the cameras, trying to look excited. I have to look good, for my family's sake, and maybe for mine as well. There just might be someone who would sponsor a happy little boy.

* * *

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**1B** Phenom Spectral **18**

**1G** Shimmer Argent **18**

**2B** Carn Hurdy **18**

**2G** Thera Adrastea **17**

**3B** Erit Byrne **17**

**3G** Icee Lightwood **15**

**4B** Lucas Tandem **18**

**4G** Ashley Coralis **14**

**5B** Tam Penemue **16**

**5G** Moira Jemsom **18**

**6B **Moh Kandeld **18**

**6G** Sara Strickham **14**

**7B** Jude Paraux **17**

**7G** Robin Sarabia **16**

**8B** Landon Meddel **16**

**8G** Gabrielle Oriot **16**

**9B **Bergamot Palentia **17**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor **15**

**10B** Luis Isofer **16**

**10G** Dawn Calder **16**

**11B** Briar Tussen **12**

**11G **Anise Leenan **15**

**12B** Bint Westley **17**

**12G** Dalinder Fernswith **17**

* * *

**CP:** Ooh, will you look at that! Only three tributes are younger than fifteen!

**YE: **Ouch, I feel sorry for whoever made _that _risky bet!

**SM: **But those who were the "one" in the five-to-one odds are raking in the cash as we speak. What a great way to begin this year's Hunger Games!

**YE: **What do you think, Claudius, does anyone look like a winner to you?

**CT: **We'll definitely want to keep an eye on Shimmer Argent, from District One. I mean, did you _see _the crowd part as she volunteered? _[The screen cuts to a replay of Shimmer approaching the stage] _She practically _demands _their awe. She looks very dangerous! We'll see soon if her bite matches her bark.

**CP: **What about those two from District Seven? Jude and Robin? _[Cut to the District Seven tributes as they high-five instead of shaking hands. They're both red-headed, tall, and look very strong.] _That's a tough looking duo. If they decide to team up against the others, Shimmer may have quite a job on her hands.

**SM: **It might also be smart to put Carn Hurdy and Thera Adrastea on the radar. _[Cut to Carn and Thera shaking hands] _District Two is very good at producing capable tributes!

**YE: **Don't forget District Eight! Oh, when Landon leapt up onto the stage to volunteer and held his sweetie tight…_ [Cut to Landon and Gabrielle after he volunteers] _I thought I was going to cry! The knight in shining armor rushing to the aid of his lady…It's like a fairy tale!

_[Cut back to the commentators]_

**CT: **Well, Yvanna, we can only hope that the odds play nicely with them. Now, Sartorius, what's the latest on betting?

* * *

**A.N.: **Lots of thanks to everyone who submitted!


	4. The Train

**The segments are kind of short, but they should get longer as we get further into the Games…**

**XXX**

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

Somehow, I end up on the train. Somehow, I find my bedroom. We're moving, but I can hardly feel it. All I am aware of is the bed that I curl up on, but I couldn't say how soft it is of what color the covers are. I've lost all feeling.

Someone knocks on the door. They say something, but I can't care enough to listen. Maybe they're calling me to lunch, but how can I eat? I don't know if I even have a stomach anymore. If I do, then I must have lost all of my nerve endings because I can't sense its presence.

Another knock. _Go away. Please, just leave me alone._

_I want to go home. I want everything to go back to normal. I don't want to be a tribute. I don't want to go to the Capitol. I don't want to die…_

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

As soon as we step on the train, Flint Kagel and Zora Lothra, this year's mentors, have me and Phenom stand against the wall. They begin to look us over, pacing back and forth and staring at us from every angle, like a pair of vultures. Zora is twenty, and won the Hunger Games just three years ago. As her bright-green eyes scan my torso, I fantasize as to what the best way to kill her would be. Not in hand-to-hand combat—near the end of her Games, she'd slit through three Careers' jugulars with a sword and finished off the last one with a rope noose around his neck. No, the best approach would be a knife in the back from a few yards away, preferably from a higher vantage point, but from lower if necessary…

"I know that look," Flint says suddenly, his voice cutting into my thoughts. "Oh, yes, I've seen it many times in you tributes, particularly with Zora here. You've got the bloodlust, girl. You've got the will to kill. Do you think that you have what it takes to handle the arena?"

I answer by whipping out my knife and slashing it through the air, stopping it inches from his nose. He never even flinched.

"Good, good," Zora said. "Come on, let's go get some breakfast."

The mentors walk over to the next car of the train before us, and I turn to see Phenom glaring at me, obviously not liking the fact that I had grabbed their attention first. I conceal my knife once again and give him a toothy, menacing grin.

"Looks like you picked the wrong year to volunteer," I say.

He snarls and tries to shove pass me, but I place a firm arm in his way.

"This is _my _year," I hiss. "These Games are _mine_. Remember that."

He is only able to enter the dining car when I allow him to.

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I enter the dining car and see the table covered by food, and I swear that my mouth probably drops open. There's just so much food, all in one place! There's tomato soup, and salad, and chicken with gravy—_oh, the gravy!_—and fruits, cheeses…and then there's a cake. A _chocolate _cake! I gobble up as much as I can hold, barely able to restrain myself to using my utensils. Despite my District's industry being agriculture, we aren't allowed to eat any of the food that we harvest. As a result, we barely get enough to keep us alive, even with my tesserae.

Between bites, I notice that Anise isn't eating much of anything. She slowly chews on a salad, and takes a few bites of a chicken leg, but doesn't look like she actually tastes it.

"Come on, Anise," I say. "Have some cake!" I'm sure that my mouth is covered in chocolate. I put a piece on her plate, and she stares at it blankly for a moment before looking up at me. The complete lack of emotion in her eyes is slightly disturbing, but I grin at her and place a forkful of cake in my mouth.

The cake stays, uneaten, on her plate.

"…you know what?" I say, coming to a decision. "I'm going to make you smile before the Games are over. Bet you that I can!"

It's impossible to tell if she heard me, because she doesn't respond.

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

I frown and lean in towards the television screen, thinking. Allies will be critical to my success in the Games, and so I watch the recap of the Reapings with a careful eye. Both tributes from District One seem pretty tough, and then there's the boy from District Four, but otherwise there isn't much to look at.

"…_let's have a big round of applause for our tributes from District Nine!"_

"Look at that girl," Thera snorts. "She can barely stand. I wouldn't bet two cents on her surviving past the bloodbath."

Marcus Kent, our mentor, nods slowly. "Keep her in the back of your mind," he cautioned. "The weakest ones always make an attempt at trickery before they kick the bucket."

Thera shrugs, tossing her long, black hair indifferently, and I'm tempted to agree with her. The girl looks absolutely terrified. Now, her District partner, on the other hand, looks capable…

The final three Reapings flash past, but they only produce more uninteresting wimps. The commentators make a few, final quips, the Capitol logo is displayed, and the screen goes dark.

"Looks like it's going to be a small pack this year," Marcus said. "That just means that you'll have to take down fewer strong people in the end, but they'll be the toughest out there. Keep up your guard, and don't trust anyone, not even each other. _Especially _not each other." He glares at us warningly. "Is that understood?"

We nod, but inside I'm wondering how you can make an alliance without trusting someone. Well, there must be some way to do it, because people win the Hunger Games, right?

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

"Bergamot!"

I limp down the hallway, towards where he has stopped in response to my call. It's frustrating to not just be able to walk over to him, but I've readied the Plan for so long, I'm not about to just drop it. It's all that I have.

I stop in front of him and his lanky body towers over me. I look up at his face, my eyes passing over his green tunic as I do so. I like that tunic. It's embroidered with the images of many different animals from the woods that surround our home, deer and mockingjays and the like.

"Can we talk?" I ask. He nods.

"Your limp," he correctly guesses the intended topic of our conversation.

"Yeah," I reply.

"I've seen you at school," he says. "I saw you just yesterday, in fact. You can walk."

"Right," I say, standing up straight for just a moment before shifting my weight back to its awkwardly balanced position.

"It's very convincing," Bergamot compliments me.

"I need to know that I can trust you, Bergamot," I say. "At least until we get to the arena. Honestly, this act is all that I have to keep me alive in there. I need to know if you're just going to run off and tell the nearest Career that it's just a façade."

"Someone else might do it for me," he says. "Someone like that boy from District Three."

"I know," I say through gritted teeth, thinking of the seventeen-year-old who I had watched with mounting horror as he had climbed the steps up to the stage. _His _limp was no act—I was almost sure of it. So would he be able to tell that I was faking?

"Just give me your word, Bergamot—"

"My friends call me Iceburg," he cut me off.

"I know that, Bergamot. My friends call me Kay. But that's beside the point."

I knew that what he had been trying to do by telling me his nickname had been of friendly intent, but I didn't want a friend, not now, so I had brushed his comment aside. I could tell that it hurt him, but I couldn't care about what he felt, not under the parameters of the Plan.

"I won't tell," Bergamot says. "I'll keep your secret, I promise."

He turns to go into his bedroom, and I notice that there is a leather bracelet around his wrist. Odd, for a boy to wear jewelry…

_Two letters, boisterous B and timid T_

_Together intertwined upon his wrist_

_Right by his side, where very few can see_

_A simple circle, with romantic twist_

**XXX**

**Landon Meddel, 16, District 8**

The sudden, complete darkness outside the train is jarring. Gabrielle's hand reaches for mine automatically, as it has done so many times during the ride.

"It's just the tunnels," our mentor, Alastair Denzine, says as I squeeze Gabby's hand reassuringly, nonchalantly spreading butter onto another roll. "We'll be in the Capitol soon.

"Let's go get a better view," I say to Gabrielle. She nods and we stand. I'm worried about her. She hasn't spoken much since the Reaping, and she cries at every little thing.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders and we stand in front of the window, waiting for the darkness to pass.

"Do you think that it's as incredible as it looks on the television?" I ask conversationally. Gabby only shrugs in response.

Just then, light floods the dining car, and as I blink away spots I hear Gabrielle gasp.

"Oh!" she cries. My eyesight clears, and I can see the Capitol now.

It's even more breathtaking than the televisions brag! There are buildings that climb up into the sky, sparkling towers of light and rainbows. Color is everywhere, so much so that it is almost blinding to look at. To wake up and see this dazzling city outside of your window every single day! I envy the citizens of the Capitol.

Speaking of the citizens, we can see people outside, watching the train and waving excitedly. They are nearly as multicolored as their home is. We wave back at the people cheerfully, and as I do so, I wonder if any of them sponsor tributes. If so, will they sympathize with two lovers who have been so cruelly tricked by fate?

**XXX**

**Kayla's got some nice iambic pentameter going on there… What do you think? Hey, jedininjamellomaster and Hahukum Konn, how do Thera and Bergamot look so far? Any comments, from anyone at all?**


	5. The Parade

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

"When we're done with you, you won't even _recognize_ yourself!" one of my three stylists squeals in an unbelievably squeaky accent. I can't help but stare at her. Her skin is _hot pink!_

They push me around for a short while, lamenting my poorly cut fingernails and hairy limbs, and then they have me take off my clothes and shove me into a bathtub, where I am boiled and scrubbed until I feel bare and stinging.

_So, this is how a fish must feel once it's been scaled and cooked, _I think, as they pull me from the tub and dry me with a lot of warm air from a fan, one stylist—a man with swirling, silvery tattoos all over his face—files my nails down to my fingertips. They're talking the entire time in that grating Capitol accent that you hear all the time over the television, about things like colors and fashions, but they talk a _lot_ about me. About my looks, my hair (which they actually compliment), my District, how I don't really look like a winner compared to the other tributes…

"…but I'm sure that you'll die in a _very _interesting way!" says my third stylist, who looks a lot like a bird. She seriously has multi-colored feathers instead of hair, and something like a yellow beak instead of a separate mouth and nose.

Their insensitivity is astonishing. It's not like I expect to survive, but don't they understand how difficult it is to face death?

…_no, _I answer myself as they have me lie down and begin to painfully wax my legs. _They probably don't. They just watch the Hunger Games; they never have had to fear them. It's just something on television._

But that doesn't make me like them. They've probably already placed high bets on my early death.

And they'll definitely be reaping in the winnings.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

For a few lovely moments, I am alone. The prep team has left, to "get Arrian," who I was pretty sure was my stylist. Hopefully, he was a good one, someone who could aid my image.

Hopefully. Odds are that he'll try to make me look tough. District 9 tributes usually end up with an image of being hunters, which, while fitting with our industry, was something of a joke because we almost always ended up as the hunted.

_Hunter, hunted, helpless prey_

_Who will live another day?_

I will. I must. I must not be the prey.

I don't mind being naked and hairless, not all that much, anyway. It makes me feel helpless, and if I feel helpless, then everyone who sees me will think that I am, indeed, helpless. I should glide under their radar, unnoticed until it is much too late.

At least, that's what I hope will happen.

The door opens, and a squat little man enters. He looks almost normal, but his eyes are neon green. I wouldn't be surprised if he could see in the dark with eyes that shade.

"Good afternoon, Kayla," he says, those eerie eyes scanning my body. "I'm Arrian."

I nod, not sure if I'm supposed to answer. The stylists hadn't addressed me directly while they were "fixing me up."

"I assume that you're curious as to what your outfit shall be like," he says.

I nod again. It seems to be a good response.

"Put on your robe, and we'll talk over lunch," Arrian indicates a plain white bathrobe lying nearby, and he then walks over to a table at the other side of the room. As I pull on the robe, I see Arrian push a button on the table, and two full plates of pasta covered with a creamy sauce appear. I limp over to the table and pick up a fork.

"You're very good at faking that limp, by the way."

I drop the fork and glance up at him in alarm. Arrian chuckles at my reaction.

"I had a word with your mentor while you were with the prep team," he explained. "I can't tell that you're faking. I just know."

"How many people will know?" I moan.

"Near none," Arrian assures me. "Only the people that you, I, or Vivienne tell will know, and I haven't told anyone but Calpurnia, Bergamot's stylist."

"That boy from Three will know," I mutter.

"Perhaps he will," says the stylist. "Perhaps he won't. I'm here to help make sure that no one will."

"So, you're going to make me look weak and helpless instead of tough?"

"In a way," says Arrian. "If we make you look helpless, then everyone who sees you will know that we are trying to make you look helpless. That could arouse suspicion. No, we're going to make you look like we're trying to make you look intimidating and utterly failing at it."

I frown slightly. "How are you going to do that?" I ask.

Arrian grins. "Finish your pasta, and then we'll get started."

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

Phenom and I arrive down at the chariots before all of the other tributes, so I am able to get a closer look at them as they arrive. _Who will I kill first? Who will be worth keeping around? _There are so many decisions to make.

That boy from District Two had stepped away from his chariot and was now glaring at me, trying to hold my gaze. I smirk and stare even more intently at his face, daring him to look away. He looked strong, so he could probably be useful, but I couldn't be sure until I saw him in training. I had my qualms about him, though. His volunteering had seemed a bit odd; rushed, forced. He wasn't sure of himself.

But he was tough. He still had yet to look away.

But I refuse to be beaten at anything. I take an intimidating step forward. Startled, he takes a step back. I see him realize how stupid that that action had been and I relish his discomfort.

"I think we could use him," Phenom says from behind me.

"Since when does what you think matter?" I ask, watching the District Two boy turn and say something indignant to his partner, who's laughing at him. That's all right by me. Discontent between the troops is something that I can work with.

Phenom snarls and stalks off, probably to plan my demise. I'm unfazed by his anger. He needs me tons more than I need him.

I continue to size up the arriving tributes. Most of them don't look to be worth squat. The Twos and Sevens have potential, but the other numbers are wimps, especially that District Nine girl with the lame leg. Her stylist shoved her into a poorly-fitting wolf's skin, probably in an attempt to make her look fierce. She looks more scared than fierce, crouching next to her partner, who is dressed in a green hunter's outfit. Cheesy and overused, but he looks physically fit. Time will tell if that longbow over his shoulder is purely ornamental or not.

The elevator doors open again, and in come the tributes from Four. The boy ignores me, which is annoying, but the girl glances in my direction, glancing away just as quickly, obviously terrified. I laugh softly. She and her partner look like victims of a shipwreck. Was that seriously _seaweed _in her hair? Pathetic.

_My _stylists had transformed me into a crystal monster, sparkling, beautiful, and menacing. Definitely menacing. I was Shimmer, I was the deadly beauty.

The five-inch, curved, sharp nails are a nice touch, as well. _How much convincing would it take for the Gamemakers to allow me to take them into the arena? _I muse, flexing my fingers and terrifying the tributes from District Five.

**XXX**

**Landon Meddel, 16, District 8**

By the time we reach the chariots, all of the other tributes are already boarding. Gabrielle and I hurry past the lower numbers, reaching the District 8 chariot, which is pulled by two palominos, just in time. I help her up. She is wearing shoes with ridiculously high heels, but we manage to stand up on the chariot. I give her a reassuring smile. She looks absolutely gorgeous, in a sparkling blue dress, with glittery makeup on her face that matches it. I am also glittering, in an identically blue suit. I'm not sure what it has to do with our District's industry, other than the fact that they're clothes, but we must look dazzling.

Gabby's trembling, so I stand behind her with my arms wrapped around her instead of the customary side-by-side. Her stylist nods at me and gives us a thumbs up, saying something that I'm sure must be positive but I can't hear him because the doors far ahead of us have just swung wide open and the roar of the crowd is now deafening. The horses start to move, drawing us closer and closer to the bright lights and loud noises, until we have emerged.

"District Eight! District Eight!" the crowd chants. I look up and I see faces, thousands of people here, watching us, screaming our names. There are so many of them…and I know that there must be thousands, maybe millions more watching us on their televisions right now. It's overwhelming.

"Landon! Landon!" A gaggle of teenage girls near the front of the crowd is calling my name, extending their arms towards me. I frown playfully and shake my head, pulling Gabrielle closer to me and placing my lips in her hair. The crowd seems to get even louder, applauding me.

Applauding _us_.

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

The chariots pull into the City Circle, and President Snow comes out of his mansion. I'm getting my first in-person look at the most powerful person in the nation! Sure, I see him on television all the time, but, like everything else here in the Capitol, reality is something else. For one thing, from here it's pretty clear that he's wearing makeup for the cameras to improve his looks. Not that he's really all that handsome anyways.

President Snow begins his speech, and he talks about us tributes, and the honor bestowed up on us, and other topics of that nature. Thera yawns widely, obviously bored, and a nearby television screen displays that moment for all to see. She doesn't seem to care about appearing disrespectful, though. I continue to watch the screen as it pans over the twelve chariots. Most of the others look to be around my age, maybe a year or two younger. We're all teens, standing here together, dressed up and on display. We're all the same here.

_Stop it! _I tell myself. _If you start thinking of them as equals, you'll never be able to kill any of them!_

But do I want to kill them? Of course I want to. I'm here to win, right?

…right?

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I really like the vines that my prep team drew onto Anise's and my skin. They're really lifelike, and with the leafy tunic and leggings, I look like…

I grin, and as the doors of the elevator close behind our team and the team of District Twelve, I throw up my hands and yelp.

"Ah! Help! I'm being eaten by a plant! Help!"

I wave my arms around, beating at the "plant" and generally making a goof of myself. I hear laughter and look up, but it's the girl from Twelve, not Anise. Her District partner is staring at me like he thinks that I'm insane, and the stylists and escorts from both sides are watching with various levels of amusement and bemusement. Anise is turned away from me, silently and blankly watching our ascent.

I sigh. "I'll get you yet," I say, prodding her in the leg. "'Operation: Make Anise Smile' is still going strong!"

She ignores me.

The elevator reaches our floor, and the doors open again.

"Briar Meddel," I say to the District Twelve girl.

She grins. "Dally Fernswith," she replies.

"See you tomorrow, Dally!" I call as I turn to follow my team out onto our floor.

**XXX**

**CF: **Good evening, Panem! Now, we've seen them already here in the Capitol, but this will be new for some of you out in the Districts! Here's a recap of the parade, and I tell you, we have _such _a spectacular set of stylists working with this year's tributes! And here they come now! First: the tributes of District One, Phenom Spectral and Shimmer Argent!

**XXX**

**A.N.: **Coming up next: Training! And you know what that means... More interactions with submitted tributes! I hope you enjoy!


	6. First Impressions

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

I wake up with the dawn sunlight through the window, and I blink at the white ceiling.

_Where am I…?_

_Oh. Yeah._

I roll out from under the covers, placing my feet on the floor. Before I stand up, I hesitate. Should I limp now? The cameras are everywhere in the arenas. Does the same thing apply for the Training Center? If the Gamemakers find out that it's an act, will they ruin it for me?

_If there are cameras, then they'll know whether I fake it here or not, _I realize. _I'll have to talk to Vivienne and the others about strategy while I'm here, anyway… So, I'll walk normally when I'm on our floor._

I wander into the bathroom. It feels good to not be dragging my leg around for once. I take a quick shower, wondering at all the buttons but deciding that now is not the time to experiment, and when I come back into the bedroom, clean and dried, I pause. Someone's been in here. A small pile of clothes has been set out on my bed. Had it been one of the Avoxes, the silent servants who'd been around at dinner the night before?

Well, whoever it was, they must have been working on Arrian's instructions. It's a really simple outfit, much like what I would wear at home. A forest-green tunic is the top, and while this fits perfectly, the gray leggings that come with it feel strangely loose. Not loose like they're going to fall off, but the legs are much wider than they need to be. It almost feels like a skirt, in a weird sort of way…

I look at myself in the mirror, and I realize what Arrian has done for me. The extra fabric serves to completely shroud the shape of my legs, and when I slouch and limp it's impossible to see the shape or muscle arrangement of my legs. Even if that boy from District Three were to try to study me, he wouldn't be able to tell that I'm faking!

This cheers me up so much that I limp out to the dining room, enjoying my role.

Bergamot and Vivienne are already eating. The food is set out on a table off to the side, so I grab a plate and serve myself.

"So," Vivienne says as I sit down and begin to chow down on delicious, cheesy scrambled eggs. "Your training officially starts today. A good deal of it will take place downstairs in the gym, but I'll be coaching you up here. It's up to you two whether or not you want to be coached together."

"Together," Bergamot blurts. Vivienne looks at him, and then at me, one eyebrow raised.

I shrug. "What difference does it make?" I say. "He knows my secret already. I don't have anything else to hide."

"Which is exactly why we should be coached together," Bergamot says. "I know your secret, but you don't know any of mine. That's not fair. You deserve the chance to learn my secrets."

I just stare at him.

"That's noble of you," says Vivienne, tucking her long, graying hair behind her ears as she thinks. "Sometimes sponsors like the noble, selfless type. We could work with that when we get to the interviews…"

"What secrets do you have that I 'deserve the chance to learn?'" I ask.

Bergamot hesitates.

"Well… I'm pretty good with a bow," he says.

"Uh, yeah, so am I," I say. Almost everyone in District Nine learns how to use a bow and arrow, as well as making snares, in school. Only the people who work in the town—bakers, carpenters, and such—instead of as hunters are exempt from this education. You'd think that that would give us an edge in the Games, but usually a Career kills us before we can even touch a bow. My father explained to me once that Vivienne won her Hunger Games using just a knife and a long coil of rope that she'd snagged from the Cornucopia while everyone else was fighting. She turned the island that the arena had been into a minefield of snares and other kinds of traps. It was so bad that the Career pack eventually stopped moving around altogether out of fear of triggering one of her traps.

"Oh. Right." Bergamot seems to be genuinely trying to think of something to tell me, which is surprising. Shouldn't he want an advantage, so that he's one step closer to home, and to that girl…?

_B and T. Bergamot and…?_

"Tell me about the girl," I say. "The one who fainted at the Reapings. She's the 'T' on your bracelet, isn't she?"

"…Yes," says Bergamot. He's rubbing the bracelet again. "Her name is Thalia. She's… wonderful. We've been best friends for as long as I can remember, but recently… Well, recently, she's been more than just that. I love her more than anything."

He squeezes the bracelet, obviously fighting to keep his emotions in check.

"I don't see how that will help you, though," he mutters. "She won't be in the arena."

"No, we're even now," I reply.

He gives me a skeptical look, and the words are out of my mouth before I can think to stop them:

"_The hunter is a killer, heartless thing,_

_Unless the prey does find where his love lies,_

_For then the hunter cannot strike the blow,_

_And happy prey is one who does not die._"

Suddenly, I realize that both Vivienne and Bergamot are staring at me, and as I turn away from them in discomfort I see that Millie, Arrian, and Calpurnia had come to the doorway at some point during my conversation with Bergamot, unnoticed by me.

Great. Now everyone will think I'm crazy, like the girls at school do.

"Did you just make that up on the spot?" Arrian asks.

I nod.

"It was like poetry," Bergamot says. "That was really good."

I shrug. My words are a quirk, nothing more. What good will they do me in the arena? Who ever heard of someone being _talked _to death?

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

The one thing that I wish were different about the Hunger Games: District One should have the top floor, instead of the first one above ground level. I should have the best view of the city, not those kids from District Twelve. They practically live in the coal mines, anyway, so they'd probably be more comfortable closer to the ground. Maybe one of them will die of fright from looking out of the window. Then again, that would mean less fun for me.

After an incredibly short elevator ride, Phenom and I are stepping out into a massive gymnasium, even larger than the one back home. I quickly assess the available stations, and I'm almost impressed by the selection. There's anything that anyone could want to learn how to use or do here, but most of it will be useless to me. All I need is a blade.

Some Capitol guy gets up and begins to speak.

"Welcome to your Training. This is where you will learn the skills that you will need…"

I tune him out as I look over the other tributes again, scanning each of them carefully. While nearly everyone's on the older and larger side of the spectrum, nearly everyone from Districts Five onward looks weak. I can't know for sure until I see them train, but then, _then_ I'll know what they're capable of.

Not that I expect them to be capable of much.

"…so, go right ahead!" the man finishes.

I hang back, waiting to see where the other tributes go first. Most head over to the survival areas, but a few brave souls go for the weapons. The Sevens head towards the axe station, no surprise there. The Four boy picks up a spear, and the Twos and Phenom are looking at the swords. But the knife station is relatively popular. A boy and a girl, who if I remember right are from Five, as well as the odd, pale duo from Three are over there, and the instructor is handing them some short daggers. The Five boy, a short, skinny guy, stands in front of the target. His stance is all wrong; he clearly has no idea what he's doing. He throws the knife, and it bounces off the edge of the target. Pathetic.

"Try it again, Tam," the Five girl says, handing him her knife. I walk up and snatch it away as it exchanges hands.

"Hey!" Tam says, but I ignore him, throwing the knife at the target. It sinks into the center with a satisfying thud.

I turn. They're staring. I enjoy their shock. All four tributes leave the station, the Fives nervously, but the Threes with an air of indifference. I don't like their attitude. It will have to be altered.

"You have good aim," says the knife instructor. I fix him in my gaze, and he quickly shuts up.

I pick up two more knives and consider throwing them both at once, but instead I look back at the other weapons stations. The Four boy whips his spear through the air, and it pierces a dummy's chest. The Two girl slashes and stabs at another dummy, while her partner awkwardly holds a broadsword like he isn't sure what to do with it. Phenom is still looking for a sword that will satisfy him.

I cross over to the spears, and I watch the Four boy use the pole of one to knock his dummy all over the place. He's fast, and certainly skilled. Every single hit lands, and he has yet to smash his own fingers or hit himself in the leg.

After a few minutes of this, he sets down his spear.

"What do you want?" he asks flatly, not looking at me.

This makes me angry.

"First, a little more respect!" I snap, sending one of my knives slashing through the air, missing his head by mere millimeters _and _hitting the bulls-eye back at its station.

"And second…" I reign in my temper and step up to him. He's about an inch taller than me, but I can be intimidating when I want to be.

"Second, I'm forming a pack," I say. "An _exclusive _pack."

"And are you asking me to join this pack?" he says, keeping his cool, although I can see in his eyes that he's a little unnerved. I can tell that he knows that, if I had altered my aim just a hair, he would be dead now.

"I am _recruiting _you," I correct. "Now, are you in, or are you dead?"

He shrugs. "Sure, I'm in," he says, holding out a hand. "Lucas Tandem."

"Shimmer Argent," I reply, setting my hand on top of his for a moment before turning away again. No handshakes for me. We're not equals, not by a long shot, and so I won't treat him like one.

But I will let him live, as long as he remains useful.

**XXX**

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

"You'd be surprised by how useful your surroundings can be, both for food and for healing," says the expert at the plants station.

I nod, trying to pay attention, trying to keep my eyes on the table and not letting them wander back to the spears, and to Lucas. He's really starting to scare me. He never smiles, and whenever he passes me he glares and snarls. I'm probably on his hit list already.

"One thing that you'll want to look for is color…" continues the man.

"Mind if we join you?" asks a high, cheery voice.

I turn to see a little, brown-skinned boy and a light-skinned girl who's a bit taller than me standing next to us.

"Of course," says the expert. The boy grins widely at me.

"I'm Briar," he says. "This is Dally. What's your name?"

"Ashley," I mutter. _Why is he asking me what my name is?_

"You're from District 11," says the expert. "How much do you know about plants?"

"Hmm…" says Briar. "Well, I know that blueberries taste a lot better than broccoli…"

Dally laughs, and I feel a little smile perking the ends of my mouth. _What a goofball…_

It turns out that Briar actually knows a lot more about plants than it seems. Mostly, he knows what's edible and what isn't.

"We're not allowed to eat anything that we harvest," he explains. "So, Dad taught me what things were good to eat, so that I wouldn't be hungry when I got home."

"That's smart," says Dally. "I don't know much about plants. My dad's the butcher."

"So you probably know a lot about meat," says Briar. "How about you, Ashley? I bet you know loads about fishing. You're from District Four, right?"

"Yeah, kinda…" I say.

These two are really confusing me. We're going to fight to the death in less than five days! Why are they being so… so…

…so _nice?_

**XXX**

**Landon Meddel, 16, District 8**

_Get allies. Get allies. Get allies._

Those two words keep running around in my head. That was Alastair's advice this morning, before Gabrielle was awake.

"_You want to keep your sweetie alive? Get allies. You need someone that you can be fairly certain won't kill you right off the bat. Someone down there is just as scared as you are. Someone down there is strong where you're weak and weak where you're strong. Find them. Get them on your side. You can always get rid of them later. For now, get them. Get allies."_

I pull a plate of salad onto my tray and look around the cafeteria. The only relatively large group is pretty clearly the Career pack. They're the tributes from One, Two, and Four. Well, some of them, anyway. The Four girl is sitting off to the side, kind of near the Elevens and Twelves but not really sitting with them. The Two boy is also by himself, looking pretty angry about something. Most people are either sitting with their District partner, or they're alone. It's very quiet; hardly anyone's talking at all.

The pair from Three are sitting nearby. "Let's sit with them," I suggest to Gabrielle. She shrugs and nods, and we approach the Threes.

"Um, are these seats taken?" I ask, like I would at lunch back home. The Three girl glowers at me, but the boy nods.

"Go ahead," he says. "I'm Erit, and this is Icee."

"Landon and Gabrielle," I say.

As we sit down, I get a good look at them. Erit's pretty good-looking, with light brown hair and blue eyes, just a bit lighter than Gabby's. Icee is incredibly pale, and her hair's so bright scarlet that it must be dyed. Erit seems laid-back, at least in appearance, but Icee is coldly glaring at us.

"So," I say. "Are you enjoying the Capitol life so far?"

"What do you want?" Icee demands. She sounds as cold as she looks.

I sigh. "Allies," I mutter, lowering my voice. The Careers are all too close for comfort.

Erit raises an eyebrow. "Allies?" he repeats. "Why us?"

I shrug. "Why _not_ you?"

"You've both got it wrong," says Icee. "The questing is, why _you_?" She motions at me and Gabby.

"I thought that you were going to be something _interesting, _after your little show at the Reapings," she continues. "But you've been bumbling around the survival stations, and she looks like she's going to cry any second now. You'd both hold us back."

Gabby hangs her head. I place an arm around her.

"Icee…" Erit sighs.

"Do you want to win, or not?" snaps the girl.

"Okay," I say. "Let's go, Gabby."

Sorry," says Erit, who at least _looks _genuinely so.

"Forget about it," I reply as Gabby and I stand up and move farther down the table. _Maybe we'll have better luck elsewhere…_

"_What gives, Icee?_" I hear Erit hiss.

"What makes _her _so special, that a guy would enter the freaking Hunger Games for her?" she replies, not seeming to care if we overhear.

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

Thera laughs at me, _again, _as I confront the dummy.

"If it were alive, it would have killed you already," she cackles.

I frown and swing my sword at the dummy. The blade makes a probably lethal cut on its chest, but she's right. I waited too long before the strike.

I don't like the sword. Wrestling is much better, but there isn't a station for that, and besides, I need to learn how to use a weapon. Now, if there _were _a wrestling station, then maybe I could get Thera off of my case.

Maybe Shimmer would stop staring at me, too.

She's standing over by the knives, watching me with that… that _stare. _That stare that makes me want to punch her in the face and crawl into a hole to cry at the same time. I_ hate _that stare. I hate _Shimmer._

But I need her.

She came up to me and Thera during lunch, to tell Thera that she could join the pack. They sat together: Shimmer, her partner Phenom, Lucas from District Four, and Thera. Now she's watching me. Hopefully, she likes what she sees.

But with Thera mocking me every step of the way…

I toss the sword aside and lunge at the dummy, ripping it from its stand and hurling it at Thera, who barely gets out of the way in time. She isn't laughing anymore, which is good.

Shimmer's still staring.

Is _that _good?

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I stand in the bathroom, contemplating the many, many buttons on the shower. They aren't labeled, but they're in different colors. What to push?

First, I get up on the tips of my toes and push a dark blue button near the top. Water spouts from the showerhead—but it's _cold! _I jump out with a yelp and quickly push another button, a pink one.

This time, the water turns pink, and it looks thicker. I stick a hand in to test it, and the water feels… silky, almost. I pull my hand back out again, and I look at it closely. I sniff. It smells really nice, like the flowers in the florist shop back home.

The next button, a yellow one, creates bubbles! Big, yellow bubbles! I laugh and grab at the bubbles, which stick to my skin and don't pop. As I try to remove the bubbles, my elbow hits yet another button, and something splashes down on my head. I blink to clear my eyes, and then I look in the mirror. My eyes widen, and I begin to laugh hysterically. A rainbow-colored, bubbly, pink-handed, sweet-smelling _thing _is staring back at me!

Eventually, my giggles die away, and I turn the normal water back on so that I can wash off the mess.

**XXX**

**A.N.: **Whew! _Now _I understand why lots of authors quit their submit-a-tribute fics! It's a hassle, handling so many characters, trying to get their personalities just right… But fear not, readers, I shall prevail! …I think I'll make the next chapter a little bit shorter, though. :)

And another thing, I know that I won't be able to update between Christmas and New Years.


	7. Formulations

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

I'm angry.

In District One, everyone knows that, if I'm angry, they should stay very far away.

Apparently, no one ever told Pleaton Danalander.

The plate sails through the air and hits our wonderful escort right in the face as I slam my bedroom door closed again.

_Those stupid Sevens! How DARE they refuse me, after I so generously welcome them into my pack! They have no right to refuse me, no right whatsoever!_

I kick the wall, which only hurts my foot, and just makes me angrier.

_If I had those two…! They're killers, I can tell. Jude picks up those enormous axes like they weigh the same as a feather, and while Robin isn't as strong, she tears those dummies apart piece by piece, grinning as she does so. If I had those two, I could dump Phenom and still have the best fighting force in the arena._

I stand in front of the mirror and glare at my reflection for a while.

_Well, that's too bad for them! Now they'll die sooner rather than later. I'll pick off Robin from a distance—right in the upper back, so that she'll die from choking on her own blood—and when Jude turns to fight me, I'll throw a blade through his fingers, and when he drops his axe in pain, I'll step forward and stab him in the stomach… Maybe I'll twist the knife a bit as I do so, too. Oh, it will be a long and painful death for Jude Paraux._

I grin at my reflection, baring my teeth as I do so.

_Now, my pack. I'm at the head, of course. Then there's Lucas. He's not very bright, but he's good with a spear. If there aren't spears in the arena, we'll get him a stick or something. He won't need a weapon, necessarily, so that's good._

_Thera's the best with a sword, but she's arrogant. Too arrogant. She lords over her partner—then again, who wouldn't? He's such a wimp.—and she walks around like she owns the place. She could rebel against me, but she won't if she knows what's good for her. I think that she knows. She's smart enough to wait to try to take me down… but I won't let her take me down._

_Phenom. He's really nothing special. He's decent with a sword. That's all. He'll be easy to dispose of when the time comes._

_I need another member…_

I walk over to the wardrobe and pick out an outfit like the one that I wore to the Reaping, but with short sleeves. I feel like showing off today.

_Who's there to pick?_

…_Carn?_

I snort as I pull on the tunic. He's really big, bigger than me, and he's muscular, but he doesn't know how to hurt something. Then again, he put up a decent show when Thera was laughing at him…

_His anger makes him strong. If I can manipulate his anger to work for me, he could have some value… I'll make a decision later today._

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

_Over and under… Over and under…_

I weave the ropes together, forming many small loops that link. I couldn't copy any of the snares that the instructor showed us, so I'm improvising.

"What's that for?" Moira asks. She's just fiddling with a piece of rope, twisting and turning it around and around. I think it's more to keep her hands busy than anything else. Her District partner, Tam, is actually working with the instructor.

"Well, you put this part on a branch," I explain, pointing to a slightly larger loop. "And this one here goes on the ground. You stretch this loop out overhead, like on another branch or something, and when a person steps on the ground loop, it tightens around their leg. And that one tightening makes this one tighten…"

I pull on the loop and show her how the others tighten in turn.

"…and it pulls on the stretched loop, which falls. So they're suspended by two loops, the one around their leg, and the stretched one, which fell around their neck. The person's weight pulls the rope tight, so, yeah."

"…Wow," says Moira. "Do you think that it actually works?"

"If it does, then it's a pretty sweet weapon," says Tam, who was paying more attention to us than the instructor, it seems.

I have mixed feelings about the rope loops in my hands. Sure, it would be effective, assuming that it works. I'm not about to test it, of course. But still… The thought of someone actually hanging from it is…unsettling, to say the least.

"It kinda looks like a spider web," I say, hanging it from the fake tree branch on the wall so that the loops fall over each other. I place a hand on the "web."

"Help! I'm stuck!" I yelp, tugging at it like it's sticky.

Moira laughs a little. I've had success with making nearly everyone I act out in front of laugh, except for Anise. She's out on the obstacle course right now, running around and around.

I think she's avoiding me.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

"What does it take to make a person disappear?" I mutter to myself, dipping my arm in brown paint and placing it against the picture of a muddy riverbed on the floor.

"I can still see the rest of your body, you know," Bergamot says.

"Well, I don't think that Arrian would be too happy if I ruined my clothes," I reply. My sleeves are rolled up as far as they will go, but I'm still careful.

"I don't think he'd care."

I sit up and glance at Bergamot. He's been in a foul mood all day, probably because Vivienne took his bracelet. It was his token, so the review board has to take a look at it.

_Like they'll find anything dangerous in a leather bracelet._

I didn't bring a token to the Capitol. The thought just hadn't occurred to me at the time, and I don't really have any prized possessions, anyway. If I get out of this alive—_when__ I get out of this alive! Think positively, Kay!_—I don't think that I'll want anything to remember the arena by.

The girl from District Six is sitting nearby, leaning against a forest scene, her eyes closed and her face covered in dark green and brown paste. Unless I focus really hard, she doesn't appear to have a head.

"You're really good at this," I compliment.

Her eyes open. It's a little eerie, seeing her black pupils staring out from an array of leaves.

"Your name's…Sara, right?" I ask. She nods, and her hair, which was piled up behind her head, comes undone. Now it's pretty clear that she's a person. Sara glares at me.

"Sorry," I say. She doesn't say anything, just glares at me and turns back to the paints.

Neither she nor Bergamot is paying any attention to me now, so I wander over to the picture of a small cave and sit in front of it, thinking. _If I were to disguise the entrance to this, how would I go about it…?_

There aren't any supplies available for that sort of camouflage, but I picture in my head setting up leaves and branches above and around the cave, scattered around so that they won't look placed, and then with a heavier concentration around the cave entrance. Only a small hole would be visible, but no one would pay that close of attention. _I wish that I could test it out…_

_Hunter's mouth is big and wide,_

_Little prey knows how to hide…_

I sigh.

_Who am I kidding? The word "prey" practically means "victim". People like Shimmer, they're hunters. They're Victors._

_I'm prey._

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

"Carn."

I turn around, and there's Shimmer.

_She's got to be a half foot shorter than me…so why the heck does she make me feel so nervous?_

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to sound tough. "Make it quick. I want to go eat."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're in," says the District One tribute. "You sit with my pack today. You do not attempt to leave my pack. I am in charge of the pack. Is that understood?"

…_I'm in?_

"Yeah," I say, hardly able to believe my luck. "Understood. Right."

Shimmer rolls her eyes and strides off towards the cafeteria.

I grin. _Take that, Thera! And you said that I'd never make it…_

_With people to back me up, maybe now I'll have a chance…_

**XXX**

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

My fingers tie a hook to a fishing line without my mind paying much attention to it. I've been fishing all my life, so there isn't much point in my being at this station…but I really don't have anywhere else that I want to go. It's familiar here.

I close my eyes and wrap my hands around the fishing pole, trying to imagine that I'm on the docks in District Four.

It doesn't work. I'm still in the Capitol.

"That one looks good," says the girl from Ten, who is looking at a large book with pictures of fish in it. I glance over.

"You wouldn't want to catch that," I mutter.

"What?" She blinks at me with reddish-brown eyes.

"There are tiny spines on its fins," I explain. "They have poison on them."

"That's right," says the instructor. "You could end up in incredible pain, or even paralyzed, if you get pricked by one of those."

"Oh…" says the girl. "Well, I guess I'll be avoiding it. You know a lot about fish," she adds to me.

I shrug and turn back to the fishing line.

"Not that it will do me much good," I mutter.

"It's food," she says. "I doubt we'll be able to get much from the Cornucopia, what with that District One girl."

I glance over at the knife-throwing station, where Shimmer Argent is hitting bulls-eye after bulls-eye.

The Ten girl sighs.

"I'd like to be over there with those knives," she says. "But I think she'd murder me if I even touched one."

"Does it matter?"

She gapes at me.

"What do you mean, 'does it matter?'" she asks.

"We're all doomed, anyway," I say. "Die sooner, die later… It's all the same."

"Well, _I'm _not going to die," the girl determinedly says. "Give me a blade, and I'll be fine. I'm going home to my brother."

She stops suddenly and turns away from me.

_Her brother?_

_Of course. She has family to miss, too… We all do. We're all stuck in these Games._

The girl looks sad. Sad, like me. I want to do something, but I don't know what…

Suddenly, I remember little Briar coming up to me yesterday, and how he asked me a question that had confused me but had made me feel good, too.

"I'm Ashley," I say. "What's your name?"

The girl turns back to me, looking a little confused, but there's a little smile on her face.

"I'm Dawn," she says.

_So that's why…_

**XXX**

**Landon Meddel, 16, District 8**

"What the _heck _am I going to do?" I shout the instant Alastair closes the door of my bedroom. "I've got nothing. No allies, no skills, nothing! I don't have anything to show the Gamemakers tomorrow, and I don't even _want _to think about the arena! And Gabby…! How the heck am I going to keep her alive? I'm useless!"

My mentor lets me rant, standing there and watching me calmly.

"Sit down, kid," he says.

I sit on my bed. Alastair continues to watch me for a few moments before speaking again.

"You aren't the first tribute to feel like that," he says. "I've watched nearly twenty pairs of teenagers from my District go through the training and the arena. Every one of them feels the strain, the pressure to stay alive, and the hopelessness of their situation. You've got it doubly so, because you care so much about your partner.

"I can only help you so far, Landon. The arena is like no other place on Earth. You have to fight for your life. You have to put on a good show for the audience. You try to hold on to your values, even as they slip through your fingers.

"I can tell you this one thing for sure, though: No one, I repeat, _no one _knows how things will be in the arena. I saw a girl get an eleven for her training score only to die in the bloodbath. I got a five, and here I am."

Alastair turns back to the door.

"The one thing that we can't control is the odds," he says as he opens the door and leaves me alone with my thoughts.


	8. Evaluations

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

I'm so worried about today's evaluations that I don't see Lucas standing in the doorway of the dining room until I nearly bump into him.

"Oh!" I gasp, stumbling backwards.

"Morning, shrimp," he sneers.

"G-Good morning," I stammer in response.

"Hmm." He glares at me for a few minutes. I stand there awkwardly, afraid to ask him to let me in for breakfast.

"Huh," he finally snorts. "What a joke."

"W-What is?" I ask.

"You, of course!" Lucas says. "You're the joke. I could've had a decent District partner, but no, it had to be you."

He takes a step towards me, and I instinctively take a step backwards.

"You're going to die, you know," he says. "You won't last a day in that arena. I'm not going to be nice and drag you around or anything. No, I'm going to be the one to kill you. And you know what?"

He leans towards me until his smirking face is inches from mine, and I'm too scared to move away.

"I'm going to enjoy it," he hisses.

Then he straightens again and turns and walks back into the dining room.

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I pull myself up the branches of the fake tree, which is actually a lot easier to climb than the real ones in the orchards back home. I'm halfway to the high ceiling of the gymnasium when I reach the top. I settle down between two forked branches and look around. From up here, I can see everyone.

The five Careers have dominated the weapons stations, although that boy from Nine is stubbornly sticking to the archery station today, probably trying to scare them off of him, or maybe he's trying to land a spot in their alliance. Shimmer doesn't look too happy about him. Then again, she never looks happy.

Over on the other side of the gymnasium, Anise is running the obstacle course at full speed, ducking and dodging as she goes. She hasn't done anything but run since we've been down here today.

_Is that what she'll show the Gamemakers after lunch?_

"Well, look what I've caught!" a voice laughs from the ground. I look down to see Robin, the girl from District Seven, smirking up at me.

"Hey, Jude!" she calls. Her partner comes over, still holding a massive, double-bladed axe from the axe station. Now there are two menacing, muscular redheads grinning up at me.

"Looks like there's a little monkey up in this tree," Jude says. "You know what we do to trees in District Seven, monkey?"

I shake my head, thinking that I probably don't want to hear the answer.

"We chop them down!"

Jude swings his axe at my tree, stopping the blade just inches from its trunk. I gasp and tighten my grip on the branches.

_He's bluffing. He has to be. He wouldn't chop me down…_

"And do you know what we do to little monkeys who fall out of the trees that we chop down?" Robin hisses. I shake my head again, wishing that they would just go away. Jude swings his axe a second time, and I yelp, sure that it will slice through the trunk.

_Thwack!_

There is a loud sound of flesh hitting a solid object, and suddenly Anise is standing there, one hand on the tree.

"Leave. Him. Alone," she says. Her voice is soft and cold.

The Sevens look unnerved by her sudden, violent appearance.

"We'll do as we please," Jude says, but his axe hand is trembling slightly.

The three teenagers stare at each other in a frightening standoff.

"Hey, termites!"

Kayla, the girl from District Nine, is limping over as fast as she can.

"You waste your time, snapping your jaws around here," she says to the Sevens. "Scurry off, little red-headed bugs. Save your bothersome nipping for the arena."

Jude and Robin glance at her, then at each other, and then, much to my surprise, they stomp off back to the axe station.

"Are you okay?" Kayla asks Anise, who nods slowly in response and then lowers her arm. Her movements are stiff. It must have hurt to hit the tree so hard, after running so fast.

"You all right, Rosethorn?" Kayla calls, glancing up at me.

I nod shakily. _Rosethorn?_

"Come on down," says Kayla. "It's safe now."

I slowly lower myself to the floor, and Anise unexpectedly places a hand on my shoulder. It's reassuring.

"Those two…" she says.

Kayla nods. "I know. They're almost even scarier than Shimmer. But don't mind them, Rosethorn. They're like the trees that they threaten to chop: all bark and no bite."

"My name isn't Rosethorn," I say. "It's Briar."

"Briars, rose thorns, what's the difference?" Kayla teases, grinning widely at me.

I grin back. "Do you two…want to make an alliance?" I ask.

"_No_."

Anise suddenly pulls her hand away from my shoulder and turns her back on me and Kayla.

"No alliances," she says. "Both of you, stay away from me."

"What? Why?" I ask. "Anise…"

But she's already gone, running and dodging around the course again.

Kayla stares after her for a while, and then she shakes her head and sighs.

"Probably not, Rosethorn," she says. "Come on, how about you quiz me on some plants?"

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

"Carn Hurdy!" one of the Gamemakers calls. I stand up and walk away from the lunch table where Thera and Lucas are still sitting and follow in the footsteps of Phenom and Shimmer, who have already been evaluated and dismissed. The gymnasium looks basically the same as it has the past two days, but I notice that someone's moved around the targets, and the Gamemakers forgot to put away a dummy that has a small hole in its chest, right over its heart. _Shimmer._

The Gamemakers nod for me to proceed, and I rush headlong at an upright dummy, punching it in the chest. It flies backwards, but as soon as it hits the ground I grab it and slam its head against the rack of swords. Imagining that this dummy is the source of all of the grief that Thera, Shimmer and the others have given me the past few days, I grab the biggest broadsword that I can see and slice the dummy in two. I turn and run at the other dummies, shouting as I cut off their heads and kick their bodies aside.

I stop, resting the sword on my shoulder, breathing hard as I survey the damage. The dummy force has been completely pulverized. The Gamemakers are nodding and taking notes.

Suddenly, a horrible image flashes through my mind. Instead of the dummies, I see the other tributes lying mangled and disfigured on the floor. Thera, beheaded, lying in a pool of her own blood. Bergamot, that bow-and-arrow boy who bugged Shimmer so much this morning, with his arms and legs broken. That little boy from Eleven, his head bashed in by the butt of my axe. And many, many others.

_I did this! I killed them!_

I barely manage to wait to be dismissed and to get out of the gym and back to the elevator without running and screaming my head off.

**XXX**

**Landon Meddel, 16, District 8**

"Landon Meddel."

I give Gabby's hand one last squeeze and then I stand and leave the cafeteria.

The Gamemakers are sitting at a table nearby, looking a bit disconcerted. Small wonder, as they just had to watch Jude and Robin. I don't even want to know what they did. It was bad enough watching them torture the dummies in public over the past two days.

I look around the gymnasium, thinking. The weapons stations are definitely not an option, if I want to make an impression. I haven't gotten a single chance to work with weapons, what with the Careers and Sevens hanging around. I'm lousy with snares, useless at fishing, and terrible at climbing. There's camouflage, but what can I hope to do over there that's impressive?

_I have to do something!_

I walk over to the plants station and pick up one of the posters. I've spent plenty of time here with Gabby, trying to memorize every edible and medicinal thing that I could, to help keep us alive. Holding the poster, I turn back to the Gamemakers and point at one of the plants on it.

"Burdock," I say. "The stem can be eaten raw or boiled. Liquid from the roots aids in sweating."

I move my finger down the poster.

"Clover. The leaves are best eaten when soaked. Yarrow. Good to eat, and the leaves can help stop bleeding…"

I go on and on until I'm tired of talking and the Gamemakers are telling me to leave.

Now all I can do is wait for Gabby, and hope…

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

"That's enough," says a Gamemaker. "You may leave."

I get up, leaving the rope that I had tied into a dozen different types of knots on the floor, and I leave the gymnasium. Odds are, I'll get a low score, probably a four or a five. I could live with that. A good score would designate me as a threat.

As I enter the elevator and push the button with a number nine on it, I start to think about earlier this morning, and about Anise and Briar. _Why did I interfere? Now, Robin and Jude will make me a target…_

…_but could I have just stood there and done nothing? _I challenge myself as the elevator reaches my floor. They were terrifying the little Rosethorn, and Anise, usually so stoic, was very upset… It hadn't shown on her face, but she had been livid and near tears. I could just tell.

_A clear glass wall, where storm clouds lurk_

_Behind the dark brown face._

_Around and 'round her feelings go,_

_Faster than she can race._

"So, how did it go?" Vivienne cuts into my thoughts.

"It could have been worse," I say with a shrug. "I tied knots until they got bored of watching me. I considered making up a poem about plants as well, but I decided against it. They might have given me a 'one' for insanity."

Vivienne laughs. "I don't think that they've ever given someone a one," she says, turning and walking back into the dining room. "Come on. They're getting dinner ready."

Bergamot, Arrian, Calpurnia, and Minnie are already seated at the table.

"So," says Vivienne, grabbing a plate. "We have one useless wimp and one skilled archer. But it's just been behind the scenes, so far. Now it's time to put you on stage."

"The interviews," Bergamot mutters.

I shrug. "Should be fun." I have some ideas already about what I'm going to say.

"It can also be the most vital part of the Hunger Games," Minnie points out. "This is the first time that the nation actually sees you. Sure, there was the parade, but that was just an attention-getter. This is the point where viewers make their first decisions about who to sponsor. So, tomorrow we'll figure out your angles and teach you how to behave in front of the audience."

I actually stare at her for a few moments. _It looks like there's more to Minnie than the bug-eyed lady I saw at first…then again, she's probably just trying to make sure that we do well so that she'll be promoted. Oh, well._

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

I lounge in my chair in the sitting room, my feet up and my eyes on the television as the anthem plays before the announcement of the training scores. I'm confident, but that goes without saying. What I'm really interested in are the scores of the other tributes.

Phenom, sitting in the chair next to me, actually looks a little nervous. It's almost funny.

The anthem ends, I sit up straight as the Capitol logo is replaced by a picture of Phenom. The one thing I don't like about this part of the Hunger Games is that the boy goes first. I should be first. Well, I'll get the first interview, so it isn't so bad. Besides, Phenom's score will most definitely pale in comparison to mine.

Below Phenom's picture, a number flashes: Eight. Flint, Zora, and the stylists nod approval, and I frown slightly, thinking. An eight is a good score, relatively. Careers like us usually get eights and nines.

Next, of course, is my picture, which is soon followed by the number eleven.

Pleaton and the stylists burst into cheers and applause, while Zora nods calmly and Flint says that he expected no less. I glance smugly at Phenom, who has a nasty scowl on his face.

I'm a bit disappointed, though. What I really wanted was a twelve.

The rest of my pack does very well. Carn somehow manages a ten, while Thera gets a nine and Lucas gets another eight. The Sevens both get nines, which I had expected, but I don't plan for them to live very long with that score.

Then Bergamot Palentia of District Nine pops up, with a number equal to that of his District.

_I'll have to keep an eye on him. He used a bow, no doubt of it. He was showing off this morning. I'll just have to make sure that he doesn't get his hands on a bow… Heck, I'll just have to make sure that he doesn't get out of the Cornucopia._

Other than that and a few surprising but not terribly worrying sixes and sevens, the rest of the scores pass by without much cause for interest.

* * *

**Tribute-**Name**-Score**

**1B** Phenom Spectral **8**

**1G** Shimmer Argent **11**

**2B** Carn Hurdy **10**

**2G** Thera Adrastea **9**

**3B** Erit Byrne **5**

**3G** Icee Lightwood **6**

**4B** Lucas Tandem **8**

**4G** Ashley Coralis **5**

**5B** Tam Penemue **5**

**5G** Moira Jemsom **7**

**6B **Moh Kandeld **5**

**6G** Sara Strickham **6**

**7B** Jude Paraux **9**

**7G** Robin Sarabia **9**

**8B** Landon Meddel **4**

**8G** Gabrielle Oriot **3**

**9B **Bergamot Palentia **9**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor **4**

**10B** Luis Isofer **4**

**10G** Dawn Calder **6**

**11B** Briar Tussen **6**

**11G **Anise Leenan **6**

**12B** Bint Westley **4**

**12G** Dalinder Fernswith **7**

**

* * *

****A.N.: **Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews! There's just one more pre-game chapter, and then we hit the arena!


	9. On With The Show!

**Landon Meddel, 16, District 8**

Alastair has Gabrielle and me sit on chairs in front of his own and just looks at us for a while. I don't mind not talking. It hadn't seemed possible to feel any worse than I did two days ago, but last night's showing of our absolutely dismal training scores did the trick. With no skills, no allies, and now definitely no sponsors, the slim door of hope that we would return home seemed even slimmer.

"The interviews are your last chance to snag sponsors," Alastair finally says. "But what you need is a spectacular showing. Now, you haven't been anything too spectacular so far. Most people that I've contacted are talking about Shimmer Argent and her eleven, but there are some people, some who are interested in you. More specifically, they're talking about your Reaping.

"Landon, you made a statement that day by volunteering. You were completely candid about your emotions for Gabrielle in that moment, and so everyone watching knew why you'd volunteered. That kind of thing doesn't easily disappear from people's minds. It just needs a bit of encouraging.

"So here's what we're going to do," he continues, leaning forward and placing his hands on the arms of his chair. "Your love is the only thing that you have, so we're going to use it. When you're on camera, you're nothing but lovers. When you're up on that stage, you're all over each other. When Caesar Flickerman asks you about yourselves, tell him everything. Tell him all the little juicy details, what you know that the audience wants to know. Tell them what _you _would want to know, if you were some rich Capitol romantic. How you met. What you like. Make them relate to you. Make them pity you. You're young and helpless. You _need_ each other. Landon, you couldn't bear to just sit there and watch her die while there was this one thing that you could do for her. Gabrielle, you begged him not to put his life on the line for you at first, but truthfully you don't know what you would do if he wasn't here beside you. Be convincing. Be _very _convincing. Put on a show that will make them squeal."

"We… We're not just a show!" I stammer, suddenly angry. "What business is it of _theirs _what our relationship is like? Why let the entire nation in on our lives? Don't we get, I don't know, some privacy?"

"You're in the Hunger Games, kid!" Alastair's voice isn't all that loud, but it feels like he's shouting me down. "There _is _no privacy, not anymore, not if you want to survive! You need to give them a show that they will adore. Something that they'll sigh and gush about at home and that will give them the urge to do everything that they can to help the two poor lost souls. Who knows? Maybe, _just maybe_, their cries will get so loud that they'll reach the ears of the Gamemakers. If they think that the only way to save the ratings of their Games is to let you both live, then they'll do so. Possibly. Probably. Whatever. It's the only thing that we have, right? You want to live, right?"

Gabby's hand is sweaty in mine. I glance at her. She looks scared. Yes, I want her to live. I want us both to live. And if this, this making our lives into this _show _could make that want into a reality, then…

I nod.

"Good," says Alastair. "Now, let's practice."

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

Thera and I step out of the elevator and walk over to Shimmer and Phenom. Her stylists have taken the crystal monster approach again with her, right down to the claw-like nails, while Phenom is in a suit. Maybe it's makeup, but he looks cold and calculating. Shimmer doesn't need any makeup to pull that off.

She looks us over as soon as we arrive, scrutinizing our features. I guess we pass, because she goes from looking serious to bored.

"Shimmer."

Lucas steps up next to me. It looks like he has just left his District partner, who's talking to the little boy from Eleven.

"That Eleven shrimp says that there's a party on the roof after the recap of the interviews," he says. "Apparently, Twelve is letting everyone come through their floor and use the shortest staircase."

"A party?" Shimmer says incredulously. "With _those _wimps? None of my pack's going."

She looks at each of us in turn, as though to reinforce her order. Her gaze lingers on me, like she expects me to disobey. _Why me? I'm the strongest guy here, and I wasn't planning on going, anyway!_

_It will be nice when I don't have to deal with Shimmer Argent anymore._

_Heck, it will be nice when the Games are over. We haven't even gotten into the arena, but I'm already tired. Tired of having to work up to someone's expectations. Back home, it didn't matter how well I did, I still had Hal._

_Here, it's a lot harder._

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

I step forward to join Caesar Flickerman, whose color of the year is a very bright yellow. He appears to glow nearly as much as I sparkle in the lights above the stage.

"So, Shimmer, tell us a bit about yourself," says the famous interviewer. "How do you feel about tomorrow? Are you nervous?"

"Nervous?" I laugh. "Why would I be nervous, Caesar? I have the Games completely under my control."

"Really?" His eyes are so wide with surprise, it's comical. "Well, your training score seems to agree with you. E-lev-en! What did you do in there, anyway?"

I grin, baring my teeth viciously. "Why don't you guess?" I say, flexing my fingers. The cameras zoom in on my crystal nails as I mime clawing something—or some_one_—in front of me. The audience titters.

"Your stylists have done quite the job with your outfit," says Caesar. "You're like a star, shining in the spotlight. Don't you agree?"

This last statement is directed towards the audience, which shouts agreement. The cameras pan over our stylists, and I frown as I watch them smile on the screen. I don't like the focus shifting to them. This is _my _show.

"Yeah, they've done all right, I guess," I say. "But listen up. I don't need a sparkly suit to turn me into a star. I _am _a star, Caesar. I'm the most deadly star that you'll ever see. I'm on the verge of supernova. Push me wrong, get in my way… The last thing that you'll _ever _see is my fury. Remember that."

"Oh, I'll be sure to," Caesar says. "Now, Shimmer, we're almost out of time, but I'm sure that the one thing we'd all love to know is just what makes you so certain of yourself. What keeps you going?"

I grin again, and a few people near the front of the audience shudder and look nervous, while others look absolutely gleeful at my viciousness.

"_I_ keep myself going," I say, my voice a low snarl. "I am in charge of myself. I am in control of the situation. In these Games, I am the one in command. And nobody, _nobody _can challenge me on that."

The buzzer sounds, right on cue after I finish speaking. The crowd goes crazy with applause, and I return to my seat, satisfied. I pass Phenom, who glares. I just stare back in response, and then I sit to watch the rest of the interviews.

My pack mostly strides around and flexes their muscles. Unimaginative, but effective. Ashley, Lucas's partner, is a nervous wreck on-camera. The rest fare about the same as her. They attempt to put on an angle. A few go for nasty and cruel, but they look weak next to me. Some try to appear intelligent, but they just look foolish. None look so foolish as those who try for the bubbly, excited appearance, which is just plain silly. Who would want to sponsor a ditz? The Sevens are intimidating, but to a child, not to me. The lovebirds of District Eight gush and sigh and swoon until I feel like puking.

Kayla Rakkor, the half-lame girl from District Nine, is actually almost interesting to listen to. Caesar asks her about her leg, and she launches into a story about falling out of a tree when she was little and foolishly trying to hunt squirrels. Her speech is rhythmical, like poetry, and very descriptive. As she talks, I can almost see the tree, and the child putting her weight on a branch that could never hold her, and as she falls, I hear the air moving quickly past her until she hits the ground—

_Snap out of it! What on earth are you thinking, Shimmer? Keep up your guard!_

It's my father's voice shouting at me, and I agree with it. I cannot afford to drop my defenses. Even a momentary lapse could be fatal.

Bergamot attempts to make himself look strong and noble by talking about his home, and how he helps his family and that of his girlfriend survive by hunting extra hours. A few idiots actually buy it, but not as many as that adored the lovebirds, and certainly not as many as me. The Tens are nothing to speak of—_Another ditz. As if shyness and cuteness will get you anything in the arena. Disgraceful._—but it's almost amusing to watch Anise Leenan of District Eleven simply refuse to respond to any of Caesar Flickerman's questions. She just stands there, staring out at the audience with a completely blank face as Caesar asks about herself, and how she likes the Capitol, and what she thinks that her strengths will be in the arena.

"How about your parents, Anise?" he says, clearly desperate to keep the crowd interested. "What does your father do for a living?"

"He works in the fields," says Anise, surprising everyone, most of all the audience, by actually speaking. "I work beside him."

"I see," says Caesar. "And your mother?"

Anise seems to get even more stony than before. "My mother is dead," she says.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," says the interviewer.

Anise turns to look right at him.

"Don't be," she says. "I'm the one who killed her."

Chaos. Complete shock and pandemonium in the audience. The cameras pan over the tributes, trying to catch all of their reactions. Most look shocked or nervous, while Thera looks skeptical and I look rather bored. The Sevens exchange confident glances, probably having labeled her as a target already. Kayla looks pensive. The only one who doesn't have an expected reaction is her partner, Briar. He's looking out over the crowd and tapping his feet, as though listening to some merry tune in his head. It's like he hasn't heard a thing.

_He must have known._

Caesar tries to get details out of Anise, but she has shut up once more. The buzzer sounds, and he has no choice but to send her back to her seat.

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

It'll be difficult to get a good reaction out of the crowd at this point, while they're so distracted, but I'd expected this. Caesar wants to ask me about Anise's final, well, her _only _statement, I know, but I don't want to answer it.

"Hiya, Caesar!" I say as I walk up to him with a bounce in my step.

"Hello, Briar," he replies. "What an interesting pre-game this has been."

"I'll say!" I reply. "For one thing, I'd like to have a word with whoever designed the showers."

"Oh? Why is that?" Caesar asks.

"Well, first off, they could put the buttons closer to the floor," I say, reaching my hands up as high as they will go as I do so. "I haven't hit my growing spurt yet."

The audience chuckles.

"Hmm," says Caesar. "I was a short guy like you, once. You'd never believe it now!"

"You're right. I don't. But let's get back to the showers."

Again, positive reaction from the audience.

"Change the Second!" I announce dramatically, striking an overly serious pose that has people laughing. "Label the buttons. It took me _forever _to find the right one…after jumping as high as I could, of course!" I pause to let them enjoy, and then go on. "Tell me the truth, Caesar. Am I still dyed green?"

I turn all around so that he can look me over, while the audience guffaws. Caesar assures me that I look fine, and I sigh with relief.

"So, Briar," says Caesar. "It seems that you're the life of the party back home. How many siblings do you have?"

It's the perfect segue into the next part of my act.

"Just one," I reply. "I have a little sister. Her name is Anthea, and, believe me, _she's _the real life of the party!"

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, it's so! Hey, Thea! You watching?" I call. The audience laughs.

"Do you remember what I promised you, Thea?" I say. "I promised you a song. Well, here it is!

"_I know a little monkey, and her name's Anthea_

_You're certain to love her the minute that you see-ah!_

_She's got a little dance, and she's got a little twirl,_

_She's my extra-special, little monkey sister girl!_"

I'd thought up a dance to go along with the words and the tune, and the audience joins Caesar in applauding me when I finish.

"I think that we have time for one more question, so here goes," says Caesar.

"Bring it on, Caesar!" I say. The crowd hoots.

"We know that you don't like the shower set-up," he paused to let the audience chuckle agreement. "But what's been your _favorite_ thing about your stay at the Capitol so far?"

"Getting off the train!" I say without hesitation.

"Really? You don't like train rides?" Caesar asks.

"Are you kidding?" I reply. "Spending nearly two days in the company of someone with only one facial expression? Come _on!_"

The cameras focus on Anise's ever-blank face, and the audience dissolves into laughter that's so loud that I almost don't hear the buzzer. Caesar waves me back to my seat, and I grin and wave at the audience as I go, very pleased with myself.

**XXX**

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

I slip out into the hallway after the interview recap, not saying anything to anyone about where I'm going. It doesn't really matter if they know. It's not like I can escape the Training Center.

Briar said something about a party on the roof. The building is much too tall for me to take the stairs, but Dally promised that her floor would be open for partygoers to use as a transit. I step into the elevator and press the number twelve. My hand is trembling; I ball it into a fist to stop its quake. Briar was right to schedule a party. We all need one.

The elevator doors open again, but on the tenth floor. Dawn and her District partner, Luis, step on, and she gives me a little smile.

"A party, huh?" she says. I shrug. We spend the rest of the short elevator ride in silence.

Dally is waiting for us.

"Glad you could come," she says, like this was just a get-together at her house. "The stairs are right down the hall. Go on and join the others; I'll wait here to see if anyone else is coming."

The three of us head down the hallway, which looks just like the one on my floor, and then we climb up a short flight of stairs and out onto the roof.

"Ashley!" Briar calls, running up to me.

"Hi, Briar," I reply, looking around the roof. There's an Avox, one of the silent servants, standing by a table with drinks, on the opposite side of the roof from the gardens. The group is pretty small. There's maybe twelve of us up here, counting me, Dawn, and Luis. As I look around, I realize that I've memorized more names and faces than I'd meant to. Tam Penemue and Moira Jemsom from District Five are over by the drinks, Moira organizing the glasses into straight rows. Erit Byrne from Three, for once not shadowed by his partner, is trying to start a conversation with Bergamot Palentia from Nine, who doesn't look like he's in much of a talking mood. Erit gives up and limps over to Bint Westley, Dally's partner, passing Kayla Rakkor, Bergamot's partner, who's sitting on the floor and watching the others. Off at the far end of the roof is Anise Leenan, Briar's partner, who's staring off into the distance.

"I don't think anyone else is coming," Dally says, coming up behind us.

"That's okay," says Briar. "Isn't this the perfect place for a party? There's space, free refreshments, a great view, and even music!"

He's right about the music, definitely. I think the Capitol is having a city-wide party at the same time as us. As for the view, it's all right, I guess. There are more buildings than I'm used to, but the sky stretches out forever. There's also a sunset. I try to compare it to the sunsets back in District Four, but it's hard to remember. Maybe they're just the same, after all.

_Disappointing…but at least this is something that the Capitol can't do better. There's some good in that, I guess._

Dawn and Luis leave to check out the drinks, and Dally suggests that we watch the crowd below.

"Hey, Rosethorn!" someone calls just as we agree. The three of us turn to see Kayla waving for Briar to come closer.

We walk over to Kayla, who lowers her voice as she continues. I can't help but notice that Bergamot is watching us very closely.

_No, not us. He's watching Kayla._

"You should keep a better eye on your partner," Kayla says.

"Huh?" Briar looks over at Anise, who hasn't moved since I last looked at her. "Anise? Why?"

"She's crying," says Kayla.

Dally and I glance at Anise, and then at each other, not seeing any such emotion from the girl's back.

"Are you sure?" Dally asks. Kayla nods solemnly.

"Oh, no," Briar moans. "Was it the joke about her facial expressions? I didn't mean anything by it! I mean, it was funny, right? The crowd enjoyed it…"

"Maybe," says Kayla. "Or maybe…" Her voice trails off as she thinks. Briar keeps glancing back at Anise, looking upset. Dally and I just stand there, not sure what to do. And Bergamot's still just _watching…_

Kayla comes out of her thoughtful reverie and looks up at the three of us. She sighs.

"Well, give me a hand up, then!" she says, holding out her arms. I grab one and Dally grabs the other, and together we pull her to her feet. She's actually pretty light, and her arms seem strong. She awkwardly balances herself with her weight on her good leg as we let go of her, and then she limps off towards Anise. The three of us hesitate, but follow her, keeping at a safe distance, however.

"Anise," Kayla says, stopping right behind the girl from District Eleven. There's no response. Kayla steps up beside her, looking out into the distance, towards the setting sun.

"Big day tomorrow," she says. "For some of us, this will be our final sunset."

_Why bring that up? _I think, her words cutting something in me. _Of course we're going to die. Why bring it up, when she's already crying? __If__ she's crying. I still don't see it._

_Then again, she just admitted to killing her mother. Death must not be all that scary of a concept to her._

"But still," Kayla continues. "Whatever happens, in the end we'll be safe. Good and safe, where no one can hurt us, or challenge us, or force us to face the deep, dark things that make us fear. We'll be fine, Anise. You'll be fine."

Anise turns to face Kayla, and I'm shocked to see that there really are tears rolling down her brown face. Kayla smiles gently at her and reaches out a hand, wiping the taller girl's tears away and tucking her hair behind her ears. Anise's eyes close as Kayla's hand touches her face, looking comforted by the contact.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

I've been lying in bed for a long time, so long that it must now be near midnight, but sleep still eludes me. This is bad. I need rest for tomorrow…but tomorrow is what's keeping me awake.

I give up my attempts at sleep and roll out of bed, limping out into the corridor. Everything is quiet and dark inside the Training Center, not at all like nighttime in District Nice, where there is always something awake and rustling through the trees, even if it is only the wind. This place is not awake. It feels dead to me.

_Dead, like twenty-three teenagers will be soon. Twenty-three prey, caught in the jaws of the hunters._

I climb up the staircase, hoping that it will wear me out, but I'm still wide awake when I reach the roof. Out here, I can hear the music again, the music of thousands of Capitol citizens celebrating the beginning of our Games. I consider going back down, or going into the garden, but then I realize that I'm not alone up here. A lone figure is standing at the far edge of the roof. I cautiously approach him, emphasizing my limp as I do so, but then I see that it's just Bergamot.

"You can't sleep either?" I ask, stopping behind him.

"No, he replies, not turning around.

_The hunter sits, unflinching,_

_He does not know surprise…_

"Well, it will all be over soon, one way or the other," I say, trying to make a morbid statement sound optimistic. I'd done better with Anise up here earlier…but I'm still not entirely sure about what had happened between us.

"One way," says Bergamot, turning to face me. "But not the other."

…_and yet I see uncertainty_

_Inside the hunter's eyes._

"What are you saying?" I ask incredulously. "You've got more of a chance out there than I do."

"No, I don't," he replies. "I won't be able to score a kill without a bow, and there's no guarantee that there will even be one in the arena. Those two from District Seven could easily overpower me. That boy from Two could snap my neck like a twig. That District One girl has an eagle's aim, and she's sadistic enough to use it. No, the only way I'm going home is in a coffin. Tell Thalia that I love her, okay?"

He walks around me to go back downstairs.

It surprises me, to hear him talking like this. Bergamot Palentia, who I'd decided was a hunter and not prey like I was, was _surrendering_?

"You think that _I'm _going home?" I say in disbelief, turning towards him. He stops and turns just his head to show that he is listening.

"You think that _this _is going to save me?" I continue, tapping my faux lame leg. "All that I've managed to do is win pity, but not nearly as much as the District 8 lovebirds have, and I told the crowd an entertaining story. That's all! And you think that I'm going to get back to District 9 alive?"

"I know that you will," Bergamot says. "I know that you will get home alive, because you're the only one of us who has the mind for it. The day that you spilled that poem about knowing where people's hearts lay, I knew that you were special. You look right into people's souls. You see the world like no one else does. You analyze, you predict, and you know what's up. You accepted the Games when you were twelve and began practicing with your leg; you welcome the arena because you know that there is no alternative. You've seen the Victors. They're lost. Some have even gone insane. That won't happen to you, Kayla. It won't, because you're mentally ready. And because it won't, you'll win. Me? I won't last past the first time one of my arrows splits a person's skin. I know that. A target, an animal, and a person are three completely different things. I'm not right for the Hunger Games, but you are."

_I'm "right" for the Hunger Games?_

"Are you calling me a killer?" I demand.

"No," he says. "I'm calling you a Victor. You are the one true Victor, the one who will keep control over her own mind."

Again, he turns to leave.

I don't want him to go. I'm confused. I want to call him back and have him explain, to tell me how he can possibly think that someone who has been placed in the role of prey could win? I'm not meant to win. The odds aren't with me, like I'd convinced myself that they would be. I've realized that since I got to the Capitol. I'm not a hunter. I'm not a killer. I'm not a Victor. The world placed me as prey, and so I am the prey, Plan or no Plan.

_Don't go, Bergamot…_

"Iceburg!" I call out.

He stops and glances back at me, his shock evident. But now that I have his attention, I don't know what to say. There isn't even a verse in my head anymore.

"May the odds be ever in your favor, Iceburg," I say lamely.

"And may they ever be in yours," he replies. "Good-bye…Kay."

He goes back downstairs, and I wander through the garden for a long time, thinking, before doing the same.

**XXX**

"Are there any last-minute concerns?" the Head Gamemaker asks his team of designers. Most shake their heads confidently and automatically, while a few look thoughtful, and one raises a finger.

"Landon and Gabrielle," she says. "My contacts tell me that they have become so popular in the standings that viewers are hoping for both of their survivals."

"They won't last for long," the Head Gamemaker assures her. "They won't hold any attention for long, not with Anise's announcement to drive it out of their memories, and especially not with Shimmer on the prowl. You saw her face as well as I did during their interviews. She despises them with every fiber of her being. I'd be surprised if they even escape the Cornucopia."

"I'd be surprised if _anyone _escaped the Cornucopia," another man points out.

"I highly doubt that that scenario will occur," says the Head Gamemaker. "But there are the safeguards, just in case. You should know that, Varinius. After all, you designed them yourself."

"Of course I know about the safeguards," Varinius replies. "However, I make a habit of doubting my own abilities, so that I shall always be on the road to improvement."

"That may be," says the Head Gamemaker. "However, it is our job to be flawless. Perfect. Everything in that arena is under our control, and it shall remain that way. We decide how the Games shall end. The odds, as they say, are ever in _our _favor."

Murmurs of assent and agreement flowed through the room.

"To yet another Hunger Games," the Head Gamemaker says, lifting his wine glass in a toast to the others.

"To the Games," they answer, drinking.

**XXX**

**A.N.: **Here we go! We'll watch the beginning on the television, and then have some regular P.O.V. sections. Please forgive me if I cause the death of your tribute.

I don't know about you all, but I'm _really _excited! Let the Games begin!


	10. Let the Games Begin!

**A.N.: **And here…we…go!

**XXX**

**BROADCASTING LIVE FROM THE CAPITOL**

**CT: **Good morning, Panem! Once again, this is Claudius Templesmith, and you would not _believe _the level of excitement! I think that there are still some celebrators out in the streets as we speak, in fact! With good reason, too! This year's pre-game session has had everyone going crazy with anticipation. Let's start the morning off with an update on the betting. Sartorius, what've you got?

**SM: **Well, first of all, the favorite to win in the Capitol is Shimmer Argent of District One, with her eleven in training and otherwise spectacular performance since she arrived. She even has a high percentage of the bets in the Upper Districts. It seems that some people have more faith in her abilities than that of their own District's tributes. Such a discrepancy from the norm is not seen in District Seven, where Jude Paraux and Robin Sarabia each reportedly have a 50-50 chance of winning. Also, there was a sharp increase in bids on Anise Leenan of District Eleven after her announcement at the interviews that she killed her mother. Other than that, there's nothing to report.

**CP: **Back to that comment about Anise, Sartorius. That moment was a real shocker, especially for me. She wouldn't give any details about what happened, too!

**YE: **She's probably saving her surprises for the arena. We'll find out soon enough, then!

**CT: **That's right, Yvanna. At this very moment, the twenty-four tributes are being transported to the arena, and most of them are already stationed in their Launch Rooms.

**CP: **I'm ready for this to get started. Are you guys ready?

**YE: **Of course, I'm ready!

**SM: **Ready as I'll ever be!

**CT: **That's good, because I've just received the message that it's time to start!

_[Camera cut to one of the launch rooms, where Moira Jemsom—her name, age (18) and District number (5) scroll across the bottom of the screen—is getting into her launch tube. She's wearing black leggings, black hiking boots, and a dark green shirt that has a hood but no sleeves. The tube closes around her, and the camera rises with her through the darkness, capturing the slightly nervous but determined expression on her face. There's a flash of light as they reach the surface, and then Moira glances around at the smooth, rocky surface that she has been deposited onto. The screen switches to an above view of the Cornucopia and the circle of tributes. The immediate area is a flat, light-gray rock which seems to be mid-way up a mountain, with a forest-covered upward slope on one side, a rough downwards slope on two other sides, and a near-vertical drop on the fourth side. While inside the Cornucopia there is the usual pile of various weapons, surrounding it are identical dark-gray backpacks. All the same size, there is no clue as to what could be in them. Rushing water can be heard, probably from a waterfall somewhere.]_

**CT: **Ladies and gentlemen, let the Forty-Seventh Annual Hunger Games begin!

_[A timer appears in the corner of the screen, which begins to count down from 60 seconds as the camera pans over the tributes, who are all identically dressed, and the surrounding area as everyone tensely waits for the mandatory minute to end. Robin Sarabia (16, 7) meets eyes with Jude Paraux (17, 7), who stands a few tributes away from her, and points at a large battleaxe on top of the pile, and he nods once in response. Thera Adrastea (17, 2) cracks her knuckles and eyes the distance between her metal circle and the Cornucopia, and also notes the distance between herself and the closest tributes: Dalinder Fernswith (17, 12) and Tam Penemue (16, 5). Anise Leenan (15, 11) turns her head to look at the upwards, tree-covered slope behind her. Dawn Calder (16, 10) notices that, at the base of the pile of weapons, there is a belt of throwing knives. She hesitates and glances at Shimmer Argent (18, 1), who is standing nearby and eyeing the same belt, before setting her feet determinedly in the direction of the Cornucopia. Kayla Rakkor (15, 9) glances down the drop behind her, staring at the rocky, nearly vertical surface. Landon Meddel (16, 8) searches around, shading his eyes from the sun, until he sees Gabrielle Oriot (16, 8) positioned on the opposite side of the circle from him.]_

_[The timer hits zero, and the numbers vanish as a gong sounds.]_

_[Jude and Robin sprint across the circle, reaching the Cornucopia first. Jude grabs the battleaxe and disappears up the tree-covered mountain, Robin right on his tail, holding a backpack in each hand and wearing one on her back. They pass the other tributes with no opposition. Moira, Dalinder, and Ashley Coralis (14, 4) each grab a backpack and flee, Dalinder heading upwards while Moira and Ashley go down the rough slope. Bergamot Palentia (17, 9) grabs a backpack and throws it to Kayla, who catches it and steps backwards off the near-vertical edge, grabbing at the rocks. Dawn and Shimmer both leap for the knives, but Shimmer gets there first and stabs Dawn in the chest. She then pulls the knife back out and turns quickly, throwing it and piercing Erit Byrne (17, 3) in the back. Icee Lightwood (15, 3) screams his name as he falls. She runs forward and grabs the knife, only for Shimmer to land another one in her forehead. Lucas Tandem (18, 4) grabs a trident and shoves Tam to the ground, spearing him through his chest to the rocks. Carn Hurdy (18, 2) grabs Moh Kandeld (18, 6) as he runs by and snaps his neck, letting him fall limply to the ground. Thera grabs a long sword and slices the neck of Luis Isofer (16, 10). Briar Tussen (12, 11) runs forward to grab a backpack, and Shimmer throws a knife at him. Right before the blade hits, Anise grabs him by his hood, yanking him backwards. The knife lodges in Briar's backpack, and Anise grabs another backpack as she sprints up into the trees. A strung bow and quiver of arrows lie at Thera's feet. Bergamot, Bint Westley (17, 12), and Sara Strickham (14, 6) all dive for it at the same time. Thera slices through Bint's back and he falls. She slashes Sara's side, but when she tries to get Bergamot as well, he has already run off into the trees with the bow and arrows, while Sara stumbles off down the rough slope, her hands pressed to her long, profusely bleeding wound. Shimmer, looking furious, throws yet another knife at Gabrielle, hitting her in the chest as she runs towards Landon. Landon cries out in despair and rage, and runs headlong at Shimmer. Phenom Spectral (18, 1) stabs him in the back with a short sword as he passes by. The pack glances around the Cornucopia area, but there is nothing left but corpses, and the blood that stains the rock.]_

_[Jude, Robin, Dalinder, and Bergamot continue up the mountain. Anise runs far too quickly for the cameras to catch more than a glimpse of her and Briar as they pass through the trees, the little boy tucked under her arm. Kayla works her way down the rocks, scaling the mountain wall. Moira, Sara, and Ashley reach the base of the mountain and set off in different directions, Moira and Ashley around its base and Sara outwards, away from the mountain. The base is dotted with dry bushes and a few sparse trees, and the ground is of dirt instead of rock.]_

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I hold on to the strap of the backpack as tightly as I can, sure that, if I were to drop it, it would be left behind in Anise's mad dash up the mountain. We're moving so fast, I can feel a strong breeze moving past us. I don't know how long Anise has been running, or if she intends on stopping any time soon. Not that I don't want to put as much distance as possible between myself and the Cornucopia, but the speed is disorienting. I close my eyes and wait for something else to happen.

Soon, it seems like we're slowing. Anise's quick, long strides turn into shorter steps, and as I reopen my eyes I see that we're surrounded by trees.

Anise stops, and then I hear the cannons counting off the dead tributes. _One, two, three… _Nine cannon shots. Nine people died in the last five minutes. A sort of shudder runs through Anise's body, and then she gently sets me down on the ground. She takes my backpack and hers and dumps their contents onto the ground. They're mostly empty. Mine had five or six packs of dried fruit and a full water bottle in it, while Anise managed to grab one which held a sleeping bag and a pair of night-vision glasses, like we use back in District 11 when we have to work at night.

"Anise," I say, but she silences me with a look and then begins to repack the supplies. She puts most of them and the dagger into one of the backpacks, placing only two packs of fruit into the other. After picking up the first backpack and bouncing it in her hand to test its weight, she sets it at my feet, putting on the other backpack.

"You should do well with that, for a while," she says, turning away. "Good luck."

"Anise, wait!" I call. "Wait!"

She doesn't face me, but she doesn't move, either.

"Why can't we be allies, Anise?" I ask. "You need this stuff, too…and you just saved my life… Please don't go, Anise. I need you."

"But I need to get away…" Anise whispers.

"What?"

Anise turns back to me and kneels on the ground in front of me, placing her hands on my shoulders.

"You may need me, but I can't stay with you," she says. "I can't be with anyone, no one that might die. I can't do it, Briar. I kill someone by not saving them. There's blood on my hands already, can't you see it? I can't bear the thought that I'll kill again. I won't be able to handle it being my fault. Can you understand that, Briar? Please try to understand that. I just can't do it. I can't…"

I stare right into her eyes, which are so dark that they're almost black.

"I never did get you to smile," I say.

Suddenly, and incredibly strangely, the ends of Anise's mouth curl up and she smiles at me. She has the sort of smile that someone uses when there is absolutely no reason to be happy, one that I've seen in District 11 many times by people who have lost everything. But it's a smile. Anise pulls me close and hugs me tightly, her lips brushing against my forehead.

"Good luck, little Briar," she whispers. Then she lets go, stands up, and, faster than I can blink, she's gone.

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

Nine kills. A disappointing number, but it will soon be rectified. For now, we have to deal with the Cornucopia.

"Search the backpacks," I say. "Anything that we can't use, we destroy. There's no need to leave anything lying around for someone else to use. Phenom, bring me the three knives that I used. Understood?"

The others nod and hurry off to the backpacks, Phenom rather grudgingly. The Gamemakers are probably annoyed with me—we're supposed to move away from the bodies, so that the hovercraft can pick them up. At the moment, though, I don't care. To waste time would be a bad move. The bodies can wait. They're dead, after all.

Carn is still staring dumbly at the kid that he killed.

"Get moving, you!" I snap. He glances over at me, then back at the corpse, and then at me again. He nods and walks over to a backpack. I roll my eyes and turn to the pile of weapons. I know what every member of my pack can use. There's a decent variety in the Cornucopia, but mostly useless to us. I find a second belt of knives, and I strap them both on. Now, even with the loss of one knife to that duo from Eleven, I have an arsenal of eleven blades around my waist, each and every one of them expertly crafted. Perfect.

Now, the other weapons. Thera and Phenom have each already taken a sword, but there's a large one left over, which I set aside for Carn. Lucas has his trident, so the spears are not necessary. There is also a pair of maces and another axe, but none of us use them. I pile them up with the spears.

_Where's the bow?_

I'd seen a bow in the pile of weapons. Where was it? It has to be destroyed, so that Bergamot Palentia can't use it…

…_No!_

"Who let Bergamot Palentia get away with a bow?" I call, turning to face the others. They glance back at me, but say nothing.

"I'm _not _a patient girl!" I shout. "Own up, now!"

"Yeah, he got past me," said Thera. "But I killed that Twelve boy, and the Six girl won't get very far with that wound…"

"Idiot!" I stomp up to her, drawing a knife. "Idiot! Didn't you see his training score? _Nine. _That's equal to your score, Thera, and more than Phenom or Lucas got! And do you know what he must have used? The weapon that he was showing off in front of us in the gymnasium, of course! The bow and arrows! You _idiot!_"

"So, what are you going to do?" Thera challenges. "Kill me?"

I snarl. No. I can't kill her, not when I need her to help with the hunt after such a dismal bloodbath.

"We'll catch him eventually," Lucas says calmly. "Or those two from Seven will. If he's that good with a bow, he could do some killing for us, too."

I sheathe my knife, but I hold a threatening finger in Thera's face.

"I don't have to put up with you," I say. "So don't push your luck."

She shrugs, but I can tell that I struck a chord in her, somewhere.

"Did anyone find matches?" I ask. Carn holds up a box. Maybe he's not _completely _useless.

"Gather up all the useless stuff," I order. "We'll burn it. And if it doesn't burn, then Carn will crush it."

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

I work my way across the rocks, careful to use only my arms and my "good" leg. The cameras could be on me at any moment, and I want to keep up the façade, even to the audience. It's all that I have. The act, my clothes, and the backpack that's on my back are my only possessions.

The climb is not too difficult. The rock wall is basically made of boulders, so there are plenty of handholds and footholds. I could probably sit on the rocks without fear of falling, but I'm not about to risk it. The ground is too far away for comfort. Up is towards the other tributes, and down is too much of a climb. My only hope is sideways.

Eventually, I find what I'm looking for. There's a tunnel in the rocks, a space left open that's wide enough for me to comfortably duck through. I drop into the tunnel and creep through it, checking to see if there's something already living in it. There isn't, but after a short trip through the tunnel I come out into the open. I'm on a wide ledge on the side of the mountain. The rock ground here is covered by grass and trees, and there's even a pond. There isn't much space, but it's enough, and as I watch, a squirrel scampers around the branches of a tree. With the rocky face with the tunnel to my back and the ledge to my front, I'm completely secluded from the rest of the arena. Unless someone climbs after me, they won't find me. And here there is water, and potential food! It's perfect for me.

I take off my backpack and go through it. There's nothing but two small coils of rope and a box of matches, but that's all that I need. I get right to making snares, before the local wildlife realize that I'm a threat.

Dinner is as good as served.

**XXX**

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

The sound of rushing water gets louder and louder as I make my way around the base of the mountain. I need to find shelter, or else Lucas will just be able to look down and see me. If he sees me, I'm dead. He and Shimmer have too good aim to miss.

Then, I walk around a rocky face and I find the source of the noise: a waterfall! It's a massive waterfall, one that looks like it begins all the way at the top of the mountain, thundering down to land here in a pool attached to a stream that winds away into the distance. I assume that the arena ends somewhere out there, but I've never known anyone to find the edge of an arena. I'm not particularly interested in looking.

I approach the waterfall, looking down into the water. There are fish in there! Lots of silver fish are swimming lazily about. Hopefully they're normal fish and not some kind of muttation. I'll need them for food. On a hunch, I wade into the water and edge around the waterfall. Sure enough, there's a little cave back there, with just enough space to sit and keep dry and relatively hidden.

The sun is starting to set, so I sit down in the little cave and go through my backpack. There's a coil of wire, a small bottle of iodine for purifying water, and a little cup with a lid. There's also a skinny little knife. I test the tip with my finger. It's very, very sharp and pointy.

Thinking, I get back out of the cave and walk over to one of the skinny trees that dot the landscape down here. Nervously checking over my shoulder, I cut down the tree and take it back into the cave with me. There, I shave off the branches—_no need to let Lucas know where I am by pieces of wood lying around outside_—and bind the knife to the long stick with the wire. Now I have a spear, for fishing, and also perhaps for self-defense.

_Are things really looking up?_

I hear the anthem play as the sky turns dark, and I peek out from behind the waterfall to look up at the sky. The seal of the Capitol is displayed up there for me and all of the other tributes to see. Now, I get to learn who's dead. When the cannon fired earlier, I had been too preoccupied with moving to count the blasts.

The seal vanishes, and then pictures of faces, like the ones used for our training scores, appear in its place, one by one, accompanied by their district number. The two tributes from Three are first, and then it moves on to the boys from Five and Six, both from Eight—_Oh, no…_—and Ten, and the boy from Twelve. The Capitol seal appears again, accompanied by a musical fanfare, and then it too vanishes.

I stay there for a while, staring up at the dark sky. _Nine tributes dead. Nine people, or at least they were people, just this morning. This morning, they were teenagers. Children. Now, they're only faces in the sky…and now those too are gone._

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**1B** Phenom Spectral **18**

**1G** Shimmer Argent **18**

**2B** Carn Hurdy **18**

**2G** Thera Adrastea **17**

**4B** Lucas Tandem **18**

**4G** Ashley Coralis **14**

**5G** Moira Jemsom **18**

**6G** Sara Strickham **14**

**7B** Jude Paraux **17**

**7G** Robin Sarabia **16**

**9B **Bergamot Palentia **17**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor **15**

**11B** Briar Tussen **12**

**11G **Anise Leenan **15**

**12G** Dalinder Fernswith **17**

**A.N.: **I'll put up a list of remaining tributes at the end of every chapter, just to keep everyone on the same page. Again, I apologize for killing your tributes… I hope that you continue to read my story, regardless. And I also hope that you tell me what you think! Please? Even if you think it's the worst story that you've ever read, tell me, so that I can make it better!


	11. Death Spider

**A.N.: **This chapter is, well, a little creepy. _**Arachnophobes, beware!**_

**XXX**

**BROADCASTING LIVE FROM THE ARENA**

_[Night. The wilderness surrounding the mountain.]_

_[Sara Strickham (14,6) reaches a small grove of the skinny trees surrounding a large black rock and collapses to her knees. The torn side of her shirt is soaked through with blood. She bites her tongue to keep from crying out in pain—she's too much in the open. No need to alert anyone to her presence, especially in her wounded state. She looks up at the trees and sees that there are cobwebs hanging from them. She grabs a handful and presses it to her side.]_

_[A block of text appears on-screen, explaining the use of spider's webs to stop bleeding.]_

_[Sara leans against the rock and grabs more cobwebs. There are quite a lot hanging from the trees, which she seems to pass of as a pleasant convenience.]_

_[Suddenly, the rock moves.]_

_[Sara falls to the ground with a soft yelp of surprise from the movement and pain from her wound. She rolls onto her back and stares up at the rock, which has opened many round, shiny black eyes—eight of them. Sara scrambles backwards as the rock stands up on eight long, skinny legs and snaps its jaw pincers at her.]_

_[It's not a rock. It's a giant, black spider, with pincers that have purple poison dripping from them.]_

_[Sara manages to get her feet beneath her and starts to run as quickly as she can back towards the mountain, the spider following quickly in pursuit. She doesn't manage to get very far before the enormous arachnid knocks her to the ground with a long, skinny leg. Sara flails and kicks at the spider, managing to strike one of its eyes. It rears up with an angry hissing noise and then holds her limbs down with four of its own, using its other legs to begin to wrap her in a white, shiny string. Sara struggles and shouts at the spider, but it only hisses again and continues to ensnare her in the thick, silky strand—first her legs, then her torso and arms, and then it wraps around her shoulders and neck, leaving her head free.]_

_[The spider leans down and bites her. Sara screams in agony, and the camera zooms in to get a good view of her face as the pain from the poison spreads throughout her body. She screams for almost a minute before she stops and lies limp.]_

_[A cannon fires. The spider suddenly gets up and flees, running towards the mountain as the hovercraft arrives to pick up the body.]_

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

The cannon shot jolts me awake, and I whack my head on the roof of the cave.

"Ow…!"

I hold my head, wondering through the pain who that cannon was for. Was it Bergamot?

_No…_

_Not the hunter, not today._

_He shall fight another day._

Then who? Briar? Anise? Dally or Ashley?

It's still the night of Day One. I won't know who is left until tomorrow night, and who knows what will happen between now and then.

Maybe Shimmer's pack is on the prowl. Will they find me? I don't think anyone noticed my escape route, not with the Cornucopia to focus on, but still…

I crawl out of the tunnel and into my little forest alcove, my head only vaguely aching now, and start to gather fallen branches and loose rocks from the ground. Once my arms are full, I duck back through the tunnel and get to work disguising the outer entrance. The odds of someone climbing down after me, or even being in a position where they could see that there was a tunnel, are very low, but I'm nervous and need to feel like I'm doing something productive.

Satisfied, I head back through the tunnel and check my snares. I've caught a squirrel and a plump little rabbit! Not bad for the first day.

I reset the snares and put my catches into my backpack, planning to prepare them in the morning. Handling the backpack makes me think of Bergamot again.

_He gave this to me. He delayed his own actions to give this to me, because he knew that I couldn't get one myself quick enough without using both of my legs._

_I hope he got that bow that he'd been eyeing before the bloodbath._

_I hope he's still alive._

Now I'll never get back to sleep.

I break a stick and use the pointed edge to skin the rabbit and squirrel. It takes a long time, longer than it would with a knife, but the necessary time and effort keeps me occupied. By the time I'm done, and beginning to puzzle out when the safest time to make a fire to cook them would be (_At night when others may be asleep, but the light is visible? During the day, when the light may go unnoticed but the smoke will be visible? How visible _am _I, anyway?_), the sun is rising. This must be the eastern side of the mountain. Good to know, in case I ever have to leave and find my way back. Hopefully, I won't. Then again, how long will the Gamemakers be willing to just let me sit here?

The sun is rising.

_Arise, my lord, and wipe away the blood!_

_Come forth, O Sun, and chase away the night!_

_Make golden light, to dry away the flood,_

_And comfort those who crouch in lonely fright!_

Day Two has officially begun. The world is moving on. I curl up again in the cave and close my eyes, hoping that I, too, will move on.

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

My backpack's so heavy, its straps feel like they're cutting into my shoulders. Usually in the Hunger Games, at least in the ones that I've seen in my lifetime, the Careers store all of the food and other useful supplies somewhere and uses that place as their camp. That was what Thera wanted to do, but Shimmer put her foot down. Yesterday, we destroyed what we couldn't carry with us, keeping only our weapons of choice, the food (although there wasn't an enormous amount of it), and a few other small supplies, like matches and water bottles. Since I'm the strongest, Shimmer delegated the heaviest load to me. My backpack was filled by most of the food and two tents which, while their thick material made them waterproof and resistant to other wear and tear, were heavy for the same reason. The weight makes it difficult for me to move quickly, so I'm at the back of our pack as we trek through the woods, and I won't be able to do much if we run into anyone despite the sword in my hands.

But…

I'm glad to have the excuse, truthfully. I can still feel that Six boy's head and body in my hands. It was so easy, _too _easy to jerk him in just the wrong direction, to hear the soft snap, to see his face go blank and his body go limp…

This isn't the schoolyard. I can't say "You give?" and let him go, and be declared the winner.

To win, everyone else has to die. No, I'll have to _kill_ everyone else.

I'd known that when I volunteered, hadn't I?

_Hadn't I?_

I nearly walk right into Phenom, who was walking right in front of me and had suddenly stopped.

"Watch it!" he snaps.

"Shh!" Shimmer hisses, one hand raised in warning. She's standing stock-still, except for her head, which is slowly turning to scan the surrounding area.

None of us moves or makes a sound for several moments.

_Is someone there? _I wonder. But I'm not stupid enough to try asking.

Suddenly, Shimmer lunges sideways. There's a thud as the arrow misses her and sticks in a tree trunk. She's upright again and there's a knife in her hand, which she throws back in the direction that the arrow came from. A second arrow meets it in midair, causing it to fall to the ground harmlessly.

All this happened in the time that it took Thera and Phenom to draw their swords.

"Don't move!" Shimmer snaps as she approaches the occupied tree.

"Bergamot Palentia," she says. Her voice oozes venom. "You've been lucky to last this long. That's all it was, you know. _Luck. _And your luck just ran out."

Another arrow came from the tree, but Shimmer easily knocked it away with another dagger.

"Are you going to waste all of your arrows, Bergamot?" she challenged. "I can wait. I'm not patient, but how many arrows could you possibly have? There was only one quiver."

There was no response from the tree, but now I could see a form crouched on a thick branch, shielded by leaves.

"I'm getting closer, Bergamot…" Shimmer says, taking another step towards the tree. "And so are my blades… You are about to die."

_He can't leave the tree, because one of us will get him. But if he stays, eventually she'll kill him…_

_And Shimmer's enjoying this. It's scary._

But then, something even scarier came charging up the mountain through the trees, right towards us. Something huge and black, with way too many legs…

I think that we all yelped at the same time. I stumbled backwards, my only thought being to get away from it. Thera and Phenom ran towards it instead, swords raised. There was a loud rustling in the trees, and then the sound of someone crashing through the undergrowth, accompanied by a shout of rage from Shimmer.

The spider hissed loudly, and purple blood seeped from the slices that my allies' swords put into its face and torso. It reared up on the hind pairs of its legs, making it seem even bigger. I held up my sword, hoping that it wouldn't come this way.

Three knives stuck firmly into the spider's chest. It hissed again, this time sounding more like a shriek, as it fell back onto all eights. Two more knives struck its eyes, and Thera's sword sliced through its neck. The head fell to the ground, and, after an eerie hesitation, the body followed.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, except for Shimmer, who strode up to the spider's corpse and rolled it over onto its back to retrieve her knives. They came out covered in purple liquid. Shimmer wiped them off on the grass, but when she held the blades up to the light afterwards they had a purplish shine.

"They're probably poisoned now," she says, calmly placing the knives back into her belt before turning back to the rest of us.

"So now what?" says Phenom. "Bergamot got away."

"Thank you, Phenom, for stating the blatantly obvious," Shimmer snarls. Phenom glares at her.

"He can't have gotten far," says Thera. "We can catch him."

"He'll hear us coming from a mile away," says Shimmer.

"Do you think there are more of those around here?" I ask, pointing at the spider.

"Perhaps," Shimmer says. "But this one went down like nothing. If there _are _more, they'll get the weaker tributes for us. I'd bet that that cannon last night was someone getting snatched by this one's pincers."

I shudder at that imagery. The pincers are large enough to snatch up _me._

"Do we stay in the woods, then?" Lucas asks, calmly leaning on his trident.

Shimmer shakes her head. "We've been nearly all the way around the mountain, and no one's passed us on their way up or down. Assuming that the woods are the spiders' grounds, either everyone will be killed by them or the Sevens. They're up here, somewhere. I say we go down to the base and pick off the few who're down there, and then come up once nature's done some of its job for us."

No one disagrees, not with the maybe-poisoned additions to Shimmer's arsenal. We begin to hike again, this time downwards.

_What if she's wrong, and the spiders live at the mountain's base?_

_I hope she's not wrong._

**XXX**

**Ashley Coralis, 14, District 4**

I'm just about to take a bite of my fish when I see the shadowy form outside. I can't make out any details, and all sounds are drowned out by the waterfall, but there's definitely someone approaching the stream. I set down the fish and place a hand on my spear, watching the figure as best as I can through the wall of water.

_Is it Lucas? …No, he wouldn't be without the pack…_

Whoever it was, he or she knelt at the stream's edge and began to scoop handfuls of water up to his or her mouth. I keep quiet and stay still. Hopefully, he or she won't find me…

Suddenly, I hear a shout, muffled by the waterfall. The figure leaps to its feet and turns to run away, but several more figures rush into my line of vision.

The pack has arrived.

They grab the figure, and I hear high-pitched pleading and dark laughter.

For a few moments, I'm scared. Then, I find myself getting angry. Very angry.

_That girl out there—I think it's a girl—she hasn't done anything wrong! She was just trying to survive. We all are. Why should they be able to just jump her? Why should any of them get to win? We're all just trying to survive here. It isn't fair!_

Someone's standing with their back to the waterfall, someone tall and slender. He's leaning on what looks like a trident, and he's just watching the others torture the girl.

_Lucas._

My hands tighten on my spear.

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

"D-Don't watch," the District Five girl gasps, her tears mixing with the blood on her face. "Mom, Dad… I love you… Please don't watch…"

"Pathetic," I sneer, kicking her side as I sheathe the first knife and draw one of the purple-stained ones. She lets out a short yelp through gritted teeth.

"Take your death like a Victor," I say. "Oh, wait, you can't. Because you're _not _a Victor. Because…you're _dead_."

With that, I stab her in the stomach with the purple knife. I could just as easily puncture her heart, but this is for experimental purposes. That spider had seemed venomous. Was its poison in its blood and, therefore, in the knife?

Sure enough, the girl's body goes rigid and her green eyes widen as she screams in agony, more agony than a simple belly wound ought to have given her. The screaming goes on for nearly a minute before her jaw slackens and her eyes go blank as a cannon fires.

I pull the dagger out of her belly and wipe it off on her shirt before putting it back on my belt.

Suddenly, I hear the unmistakable sound of a blade sticking through flesh, and Lucas cries out. I straighten, knife back in my hand as I take in the pointed tip of a spear sticking out of the Four boy's chest. Lucas stares down at it for a moment, and then he falls to the ground with a cannon as accompaniment.

I trace the trajectory of the attack. _His back had been facing—_

"—the waterfall!" I shout. Thera and Phenom immediately race for the thundering falls, wading through the stream. Carn just stands there dumbly. _Nothing new there._

I hear a scream and yet another cannon, and I put my knife away, although my eyes are still scanning the surrounding area. I'd let my guard down during the kill. That kind of lapse was not good. No one else is down here, and there's nowhere else for them to hide, no other cover.

It was unfortunate to lose Lucas so quickly. He was a bit smarter than the others, but perhaps then it was better that he die now. It saves me the trouble of having to hunt him down later. Now, I'm over the halfway mark. _Thirteen down. Ten to go._

I look upward. The waterfall looks like it starts all the way at the top of the mountain. There's a dark shape at the top. Someone is watching us.

The person turns and goes out of sight.

_No matter, _I think. _I'll get you, too, soon enough._

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I climb higher into the tree, until I'm maybe fifty feet off the ground. The branches up here are slimmer, but I'm light enough to not break them. I find a nice place to lie down and I set up the sleeping bag there. The sky is getting pretty dark.

I reach into my backpack again and pull out a packet of dried fruit. It's half empty; I ate some of it earlier. Now I lie back and munch on the fruit while I wait for the anthem to play. From up here, I have a good view of the sky.

_There were so many cannons today. Too many. Was Anise one of them? Was it Dally, or Moira, or Ashley? I have to know…_

I've been running around all day, on the ground and through the trees, constantly looking over my shoulder. Thankfully, I haven't run into anyone.

The Capitol seal appears in the sky, and the anthem begins to play. I take another mouthful of fruit and chew while I wait, swallowing just as the first picture appears. It's the boy from District Four.

_The pack's down a member… I wonder what happened?_

Maybe I don't want to know, especially because the next face to appear is Ashley's. Then comes Moira, and then Sara, the quiet girl from Six who refused to come to the party when I invited her at the interviews. The seal flashes by again, and then all is quiet and dark.

_Only four? It felt like more than that…_

_Ashley… Moira…_

I put away the fruit and curl up inside the sleeping bag. It was pretty chilly last night.

_They're dead, they're really gone. At least Anise is out there somewhere, and Dally…but I liked Moira. She was nice. And Ashley always looked so sad and scared, but she was really kind, too…_

_Who killed the Four boy? He was a member of the Career pack… Did Shimmer get tired of him? Or was it… Was it Jude and Robin?_

I haven't seen those two since the bloodbath. They're in these woods, somewhere, with a battleaxe, and I'm in a tree…

_"And do you know what we do to little monkeys who fall out of the trees that we chop down?"_

The ground seems much more appealing now than the tree does. But anyone could find me on the ground…

_I wish Anise were here._

_I wish I was home…_

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**1B **Phenom Spectral** 18**

**1G **Shimmer Argent** 18**

**2B **Carn Hurdy** 18**

**2G **Thera Adrastea** 17**

**7B **Jude Paraux** 17**

**7G **Robin Sarabia** 16**

**9B **Bergamot Palentia** 17**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor** 15**

**11B **Briar Tussen** 12**

**11G **Anise Leenan** 15**

**12G **Dalinder Fernswith** 17**

**A.N.: **I completely forgot to do a Carn section last time! Oops… I could go back and fix it, but I'm not sure what I'd write…


	12. Web of Fear

**A.N.: **This chapter contains one swear word, near the end.

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

I sit down on a rock, trying to keep my eyes open. Shimmer assigned me to tonight's watch, which would be all right if I could just stay awake… We've been hiking around non-stop, and I'm tired. But it isn't just a tired gained from physical activity. I'm tired of the fighting. Tired of the fear and the pain. Tired of the Hunger Games…

_Poison drips from a headless spider… Blood trickles down a screaming girl's face… A boy lies on the ground, his head at an impossible angle… The spider charges, pincers wide, hissing…!_

The hissing is so realistic, it wakes me up.

_I'm glad Shimmer didn't see that… How long was I asleep?_

I look up, freeze, and scream.

Exactly how long doesn't matter.

It was long enough for my pack to become surrounded by enormous, hissing, venomous spiders.

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

I awaken to Carn's panicked yell, and I have a dagger in each hand before I'm completely up. My eyes widen as they take in the situation.

Spiders. About a dozen of them. We're surrounded.

Thera and Phenom have their swords drawn by this point, but they're glancing around in terror.

"Strike first!" I order. "Kill them quickly—don't get poisoned!"

The spiders hiss and charge.

I fell the one in front of me immediately with two knives to the brain, and its corpse trips up the one behind it. I run forward and slice through its neck, dodging away just as quickly. Any contact with that poisoned blood and my own bloodstream could prove fatal, and I didn't volunteer for these Games to get stomped by a spider!

Thera and Phenom are holding their own, each having killed some of the adversary, but Carn is just standing there dumbly with his broadsword held loosely in his hands.

"Use your blade, you useless baby!" I shout, throwing three knives into the chest of an oncoming spider. A furious look crosses Carn's face, and he lifts his sword and slices through two spiders with a roar of anger.

_Good._

I hear Phenom scream, and I turn to see Thera separate a spider's head from its torso. The head remains stuck to Phenom's front, pincers deep inside his chest. He sags to his knees and then to the ground, and his cannon fires as Carn finishes off the last two spiders.

I look back at the spiders that I killed before, and I curse softly under my breath. Their blood has leaked onto the handles of my knives, all five of them. I can't risk using them anymore. That leaves me with only six blades at my waist, and only two of them have a poisoned blade.

"I hope that's the last of them," Thera mutters. I nod slowly, picking up Phenom's discarded sword and attaching it to my belt.

_I don't think the swords are poisoned, because Thera's didn't kill that Five girl yesterday when she was slashed by it. There must not be poison in the spiders' necks…_

_Poisoned or not, _I think, watching Thera out of the corner of my eye. _I might need it soon._

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

The sounds of someone approaching through the foliage send me running for the trees, but before I'm even a few yards off of the ground, the other tribute comes into view.

"Briar?"

I turn to face her. "Dally!" I exclaim. She places a cautioning finger to her lips as I drop to the ground again.

"I saw Jude and Robin sneaking around just a little while ago," she whispers. "Be careful."

I nod. "I was hoping that the cannon earlier was one of them…"

Dally shrugs. "My guess is that it was a victim of the Careers," she says. "Have you seen Anise or Kayla recently?"

I shake my head. "Not since the bloodbath… You?"

Dally shakes her head, as well.

"I hope they're okay…" I say. "Anise could probably outrun anyone, but Kayla's got that limp."

Suddenly a horrible thought crosses my mind, and I take a few steps backwards.

"You…! You're not…?"

Dally shakes her head again.

"I'm not going to kill you, Briar," she says. "I have a little sister just like you. I'm not gonna hurt you."

I relax, but not completely.

"Dally, I—"

A twig snaps.

We both turn in the direction of the sound, frozen.

Suddenly, two figures come charging into view. One of them is holding a battleaxe.

"Run!" Dally shrieks. I turn and scamper, dodging around trees as I try to get away.

Soon, though, it's clear that no one is following me. I slow to a walk, and then I stand with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

_That was Jude! And Robin! Dally… Did they catch her? There wasn't a cannon… Or was there? I don't remember! Are they after me, now? No, no, I would hear them. Wouldn't I? I don't know!_

_I just don't know!_

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

I lie in the grass, staring down over the edge of my ledge. There's a trio of people walking far below me. Probably the Careers. Have they really gotten so small?

_Time is ticking,_

_Ticking, ticking,_

_Ticking for the hunters_

_Pack is shrinking,_

_Shrinking, shrinking,_

_Shrinking down in numbers._

Maybe I could lessen them even more…

I quietly get up and grab a small rock from nearby. At this height, it could do some damage…but is it worth possibly giving up my position?

_But if they thought that it was just a loose rock or something…_

I creep back over to the ledge, take aim, and drop the rock, immediately hurrying back to the tunnel to hide. I hear a faint crunch as the rock hits the ground far below, followed by some shouts of consternation, but no cannon.

_I missed. Damn._

**XXX**

The Head Gamemaker frowns as he looks at the statistics on the computer screen in front of him.

"The viewers enjoyed the spiders…" he mutters, just loud enough for his team of programmers and geneticists around him to hear. "…but that's the last of them!"

He turns to the geneticist at his right.

"Would it be possible to create more, and release them into the mountain tunnels, within a probable timeframe?"

The geneticist shakes his head.

"The spiders took weeks to grow from individual cells," he replies. "And they were sterile, so there are no eggs, no young to work from."

"This could be for the better, sir," Varinius says, turning his chair around. "It is the public opinion that we relied too heavily on the muttations last year. While they provided good ratings in the short term, viewers became bored."

"My findings support that claim," the woman beside him adds.

The Head Gamemaker shakes his head. "There was a time when it was easy to entertain the masses with our Games," he says. "Back when I was just a programmer, everything was new and exciting. Now nothing is."

He thinks for a few moments, head bowed, and then he looks up again.

"Where is Tacita Belillium?" he asks.

"The psychologist?" says the geneticist. "In her rooms, I think."

"Send for her," the Head Gamemaker orders. "We've done enough physical damage for now. Let's see what we can do to manipulate these kids' minds…"

"What are you saying?" Varinius leans forward in his chair.

The Head Gamemaker smiles.

"Everyone loves a drama," he says. "A broken alliance, a touching story… Tacita will know how to arrange the best show."

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**1G **Shimmer Argent** 18**

**2B **Carn Hurdy** 18**

**2G **Thera Adrastea** 17**

**7B **Jude Paraux** 17**

**7G **Robin Sarabia** 16**

**9B **Bergamot Palentia** 17**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor** 15**

**11B **Briar Tussen** 12**

**11G **Anise Leenan** 15**

**12G **Dalinder Fernswith** 17**


	13. Anxiety

**A.N.: **So, apparently there's been some confusion as to how and when Ashley died. In Chapter Eleven, she's hiding behind the waterfall when Shimmer and her pack attack Moira (the "Five girl" as Shimmer refers to her). From Shimmer's point of view, the person hiding behind the waterfall throws a spear at Lucas, killing him. Thera and Phenom run for the waterfall, and then Shimmer hears "a scream and yet another cannon." She didn't check to see who it was, because she was making sure that no one else had snuck up on them, and reprimanding herself for not checking in the first place. That night, Briar sees Ashley's picture in the sky after the playing of the anthem, as well as those of Lucas, Moira, and Sara, who was killed by the spider. I hope this clears things up!

**XXX**

"We've been here for hours," someone mutters. "When's something going to _happen?_"

"You can go home if you want," the Head Gamemaker says, not turning around to see who it was. "Or you can stay here and be ready."

The other Gamemaker shrugs and pours himself another cup of coffee before turning to face the large television screen. On it, the cameras keep alternating between shots of Dalinder Fernswith (17, 12), who hasn't gotten any sleep tonight either, and the two tributes from Seven, who are the reason that she's awake. The three were playing an odd sort of cat and mouse. Dalinder rested, Jude and Robin approached; Dalinder ran, Jude and Robin waited. Eventually, the Gamemaker knew, one or the other would slip up, leading either to escape for the girl from Twelve or a kill for Jude.

The Head Gamemaker was not watching the screen. He was watching Tacita, the psychologist, as she silently read papers from a plain white folder she held in her hands, while watching another, smaller screen with the volume low. The screen was showing clips from the interviews.

Tacita leans back in her chair. "Who were you thinking would win?" she asks.

"Probably Shimmer," the Head Gamemaker replies. "Or Thera. Maybe Carn, if it comes to that. It all depends on what happens after they move back up the mountain to face Jude and Robin."

The psychologist nods slowly. "What about Kayla?"

"The girl from Nine? If she goes another day without someone finding her, we'll have to take action. She's got it far too easy. That's no good for the ratings."

Tacita looks thoughtful for a few moments. "Can you get me a tracker map?"

The Head Gamemaker nods at the woman on his left, who presses a few buttons on the keyboard in front of her. Yet another screen flashes to life, showing an above-view of the arena layout, with ten dots of different colors for the tributes. A motionless group of three near the mountain's base for the Career pack. Three moving dots: Dally, Jude, and Robin. The other four are spread out and motionless. Tacita checks the key at the bottom of the screen and studies the map, not speaking again for several moments.

"Sir!" one of the other Gamemakers exclaims. All eyes but those of the psychologist turn to the main television screen, where Dalinder lies on the ground, having tripped over a tree root and now being held down by Robin. Jude runs up, swings his axe over his head, and brings it down on the girl from Twelve's neck.

The Head Gamemaker nods and pushes a button.

"Fire cannon," he says, his voice entering a sort of P.A. system. "Hovercraft Three, prepare to collect the body."

In answer, the arena cannon fires.

"Give her two days," Tacita says.

"What?" The Head Gamemaker turns back to her.

"Kayla Rakkor. Don't give her one day, give her two. Then make your move. It's the rocks, isn't it?"

"Yes…" says the Head Gamemaker. "But what difference will two days make?"

The psychologist wordlessly points at the screen, at a dark green dot labeled _Anise Leenan: District 11_.

"All the difference in the world," she says. "Trust me, you'll get your show."

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I hear the cannon through my sleep, and my first thought when I wake up is _Dally!_

Then I stop myself. It could very well be someone other than Dally. Maybe the pack had another falling-out. Or Dally got the better of Jude or Robin. Or, really, anyone else: Anise or Kayla or Bergamot.

I won't know for sure until nightfall.

_I wish they showed deaths during the night right away, rather than waiting for the next sundown!_

But there's nothing I can do about it.

If it _was _Dally, then Jude and Robin will be moving on to their next target.

…Me?

I try to decide what to do now. Stay in the tree? I'm a sitting duck here. I could maybe jump into another tree if the Sevens find me, but it will only be so long before they wear me down…

_What's at the top of the mountain?_

The question suddenly pops into my head. More trees? Possibly. Or something else? Jude and Robin's domain is the forest…but what about the peak?

_Well…there's only one way to find out, and it's better than sitting here and waiting for Jude and Robin._

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

"It's time to move up again," I announce. "There's no one left down here, and if there are more spiders, this is their nest."

"Someone's busy up there," Carn mutters. "That cannon last night…"

"Jude and Robin's work, no doubt," I say. "Or Bergamot's, but I wouldn't bet on it. He's too sweet. It's time we hunt him down. It's time we hunt them _all_ down."

"No problem," Thera says, rolling her eyes. "So let's _go_."

I glare at her. "You're too relaxed," I say. "Much too relaxed. Do you even _realize_ what happened yesterday? How close this game came to ending? This is serious. This is the rest of our lives. The rest of _my _life. Do you realize that? No, you don't. You don't realize. And _that _will be your undoing.

"And _you!_" I continue, turning to face Carn. "Sleeping on your watch! You almost got us all killed by your utter stupidity. There's no excuse for that. You've got the body of a warrior, but inside is the brain of a worm. A worm that's been cut in half!"

I turn and begin to hike up the mountain. Of course I know that my back's to them now, but part of me wants them to attack. Last night shook me up. I need to kill someone.

Something else that's bugging me: _Why haven't I gotten any sponsors yet?_

There must be money. So where're the parachutes? Not that I need anything, but still.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

I stop walking, and I realize that I've been pacing back and forth for a long time, tracing and retracing my footsteps. Luckily, my limp is my natural go-to now for movement, because I haven't been paying attention to what I was doing. There's no one here to have to trick, but…it's the only thing that I have to do.

How many days have I been here? We left the Training Center…four days ago, was it? Four days. I've been sitting here for four days? That can't be right. It feels like longer.

I've been comfortable. Almost too comfortable. I have food, I have water, and I have shelter. No one's come hunting yet. I'm not sick or injured. I'm fine.

But because of that, I'm downright terrified.

Something has to happen soon. Something! Why are they letting me just sit here? I mean, I like it, but… No one gets to just sit around in the Hunger Games. All the action and dying is happening elsewhere on the mountain. That cannon last night means that there are nine of us left. The viewers in the Capitol might be getting bored. They'll need everyone to be doing something to keep things entertaining.

So why am I just able to sit here?

I look down from the ledge, and then up the rocky mountain, and then I check the tunnel. Something big and nasty is creeping up on me, I just know it. Something that can hunt, and that wants some skinny little prey for a snack. I'm unarmed. Helpless.

_Hunter grins and licks its chops,_

_Watching little prey that stops._

_Hardened muscles, vicious skill_

_Teeth that bite and claws that—_

I curl up in the tunnel, hands clamped tight over my ears, trying to drive out the horrible rhymes.

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

_I've had enough, _I think, watching Shimmer as she looks for a good place to camp. _I've had enough of being yelled at, enough of being insulted and belittled. Enough of Shimmer Argent._

_But what can I do?_

_I have the food on my back. I could run for it._

_She'll kill me. Poisoned knife in the back._

_If I snuck away during the night…?_

_Then what? Hole up somewhere and hope that the others stay away, or kill each other off? I'm lousy at fighting. If Jude and Robin or Bergamot show up…or that girl from Eleven, who killed her mother, for God's sake…_

I frown. As much as I hate it, I'm safer with Shimmer Argent and Thera Adrastea than anywhere else.

_This sucks…but I guess becoming a Victor makes it all worth the while._

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**1G **Shimmer Argent** 18**

**2B **Carn Hurdy** 18**

**2G **Thera Adrastea** 17**

**7B **Jude Paraux** 17**

**7G **Robin Sarabia** 16**

**9B **Bergamot Palentia** 17**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor** 15**

**11B **Briar Tussen** 12**

**11G **Anise Leenan** 15**

**A.N.: **I really like writing the Gamemaker segments… Next chapter, there should be the promised Sponsor Table segment, though!


	14. Hunter's Song

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

Our campfire is dim, but it illuminates just enough to see a few feet in every direction. Now _I _keep watch. I'm not about to risk having Carn fall asleep on us again, not when there could be any number of creatures stalking us in these woods.

Creatures…or people.

I lean against a tree, my eyes slowly scanning the shadows around us. Eight tributes stand between me and victory. Just eight.

Two of them are lying asleep in front of me. Carn and Thera. If they were to team up—_which they won't. They hate each other too much for that—_against me, there's a chance that they could overpower me. I could kill them both right now. Poisoned knife in the bloodstream. They'd never even wake up.

And I would, if it weren't for Jude and Robin. I've yet to see them in action, but I'd bet that they've been behind the other kills—the girls from Six and Twelve. I would much rather outnumber that duo than go it alone. After they're dead, _then _I'll kill Carn and Thera. Maybe Jude will take down one of them for me.

_Probably Carn. He probably wouldn't notice if there was an axe in his skull anyway, the idiot._

Then there's Bergamot. If I jump him, he's dead. If he jumps me…_ I won't let that happen._

_Who else is out there? _I frown, thinking.

_The Elevens… That scrawny little boy, and the girl. It was dumb luck that they got away at the Cornucopia. All that that girl has is speed, and that won't protect her from a poisoned knife. The boy's helpless without her to protect him._

I'm missing someone. Who am I forgetting? No one dangerous, surely…

I think back to the Reapings, and the days at the Capitol, comparing the faces there to the faces of the dead. _Who's the odd one out…?_

Carn stirs, rolls over, and stands up.

"Bathroom," he mutters before skulking off into the trees and out of sight.

I don't like not knowing something. I take out a knife and toss it into the air, where it flips until the handle lands back in my hand. Again I toss the knife, and again I catch it as I think.

Then it hits me, and I almost laugh out loud. The girl with the limp. District Nine. Dismal training score. It's a wonder she's survived this long.

_If I find her, then fine. Otherwise, I'll leave her until the end. She'll be an easy kill._

**XXX**

**Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2**

I pull my pants back up, but instead of turning back towards camp and the light of our campfire I continue to walk through the trees and up the mountain. Everything's so quiet here at night. District Two is a city in the mountains, with the clamor of rocks and trains. There aren't so many trees there. It's different here. It's kind of nice, in a strange sort of way.

I'm ready to go back home, though.

The sounds of hurried footsteps somewhere in front of me bring me out of my thoughts very quickly. I freeze, and then I hear a swishing sound, and then a grunt of pain, followed by more footsteps.

I inch forward. There's a clearing just ahead of me. I peer out from behind a tree as a tall figure runs by, his hood up and a bow in his hands. Just before he reaches the trees on the opposite end of the clearing, another figure drops down from a tree, knocking him to the ground.

"Hurry, Jude!" she calls as she struggles to hold him down. Her victim tries to throw her off, but she determinedly stays on top, forcing his arms behind his body. There's a crack, and then the girl tosses the bow aside, broken in two.

A third figure enters the clearing, limping and dragging a huge axe behind him. It's Jude.

"Quick!" Robin shouts. Jude heaves himself over to them.

"Get out of the way," he snarls. Robin rolls off of her victim, keeping his legs pinned.

"Please," I hear the boy on the ground whisper. "Please, no…"

Jude swings his axe, burying its blade in the boy's stomach. The boy groans, but stays mostly quiet.

"Did he get you?" Robin hisses.

"In the leg," Jude replies, pulling his axe out of his victim's body. "The arrow fell out. I'm bleeding pretty bad."

"Let's get back under cover; then I'll fix you up. He won't live long."

The two District Seven tributes head back into the trees, the noise of their movements fading away. I wait until they must be a long way away, and then I walk over to the fallen boy. There hasn't been a cannon yet. He's still alive.

I stand over him, and all I can see is blood, dark red liquid running everywhere. Suddenly, I feel very nauseous.

The boy stirs. I don't think that he sees me, but he lifts one hand up to his face. In it he's clutching what appears to be a leather bracelet.

"T-Thalia…" he sighs, and then his arm goes limp and he lies very, very still.

Now, the cannon fires.

I hesitate, leery of putting my hands anywhere near all that blood, but I grab a few arrows out of the quiver on his back. Then I turn and quickly walk back towards my camp.

When I get there, Shimmer and Thera are on high alert, probably aroused by the cannon. Shimmer's eyes narrow at the sight of the arrows in my hand.

"Bergamot Palentia is dead," I announce, tossing the arrows onto the fire.

Thera looks at the arrows, and then at me, and then at Shimmer, a disbelieving look on her face. Shimmer just frowns thoughtfully. I sit down next to the fire and watch the arrows burn.

**XXX**

Vivienne Derry leans back in her chair, running a hand through her long, graying hair, which has gained a few more strands of silver this year. She looks around the room. There are only five tables left in a room that originally held twelve. This is the Sponsor Center.

Today's been a slow day. A few rich-looking folks had come up to the District Seven table earlier that morning, after Jude and Robin's latest killing, giving enough money to clean and bandage Jude's leg, but that was all.

"Do you want to go to lunch now?"

Vivienne turns to the speaker, who sits at the District Eleven Table.

"Not yet, Aspen," she says. "Not quite yet."

Aspen Rall shrugs. "I don't think we're going to get anything."

"But if I'm not here, then it doesn't get written down," says Vivienne. "And if it doesn't get written down, then it doesn't help Kayla."

"I know that," Aspen sighs. "We all know that."

Vivienne looks back at the door. Aspen watches her for a minute, and he notes the tenseness in her stance. He won the Games right before hers, so they've known each other for quite a while.

"Look," says Aspen. "I'm sorry about Bergamot. He was a good kid."

"They're always good kids." Vivienne mutters. "Each and every one of them."

The door slides open, and a man walks in. He has dark hair and rainbow-colored skin. Aspen raises an eyebrow at Vivienne. No matter how many years go by, he's never managed to understand the Capitol fashion sense.

The man glances around the room, looking over all five tables, and then he approaches Vivienne.

"This is for Kayla," he says, taking an envelope out of his coat pocket. "And this…for Anise and Briar," he continues, handing Aspen an identical envelope.

"Your name?" Vivienne asks.

"If you must put something down, write 'Anonymous Donor,'" the man says as he turns and walks back outside.

That wasn't too unusual. Plenty of sponsors prefer to be anonymous, although most like to have their names out in the world, desperate for any grab at fame.

Vivienne opens the envelope. Her eyes widen, and she looks over at Aspen, who nods.

"Me, too," he says.

"Just when I thought that nothing could amaze me…" Vivienne mutters, quickly entering the incredibly high amount.

The lower Districts _never _get high-paying sponsors. But this much, on day five of the Games…this could buy food. This could buy medicine. This could even buy a gift, something to make Kayla feel more comfortable. She had been pacing again this morning. Vivienne hated to think how the girl would react to find out that Bergamot was dead.

"Lunchtime?" says Aspen.

Vivienne nods, thinking.

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I sit down on a rock, resting. I've been hiking all day, up the mountain and towards a peak that I have yet to find. I take a sip from my water bottle. It's running low, despite my efforts to conserve it. Hopefully, there will be water at the peak. I definitely heard rushing water at the Cornucopia, so it's got to be around here somewhere.

I look up, and then I leap back to my feet. There's a silver parachute caught on a branch in the tree above me!

_Sponsors! For me? Yes!_

I climb up the tree as quickly as I can, pulling the parachute free and sitting on the branch as I open the package hanging from it.

Inside, there is a full water bottle and a long coil of rope!

I put the water bottle in my backpack next to the other one, but I hesitate with the rope. _What am I supposed to do with this? Ah, well, it could be useful later. And I have space for it in my backpack now…I'm starting to run out of fruit. But those berries this morning were good, so no worries._

In a much better mood now than I was a few minutes ago, I climb back down to the ground and continue up the mountain.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

The Capitol logo flashes, and I count the seconds until it goes away in an attempt to lower my anxiety. _Who died last night? Who's still after me? I need to know… I need to know!_

After what feels like a lifetime but was actually exactly sixty-five seconds, the logo disappears, and then the picture appears.

It's Bergamot.

"Iceberg…!" I wail, stretching my hands up to the sky, trying to touch the face of the boy who is now dead…but then it fades away, and the fanfare plays, and I am all alone in the darkness once more.

"Bergamot…" I whisper to the stars, sagging to my knees. My head hangs, staring at the ground but not seeing it.

"_The bravest hunter of them all…_

_Don't you hear his trumpet call?_"

The words find their way out of my mouth on their own.

"_Through the woods the hunter runs,_

_For his hunt has just begun._

_Now gone to another place,_

_Where he will have prey to race,_

_Where the birds sing songs of praise,_

_Where the sun sheds joyful rays,_

_Where he will not be the least,_

_Where he'll always be at peace,_

_Where the trees give pleasant shade,_

_Where he'll wander through the glade,_

_With his arms around his love,_

_In this place so far above._"

I turn my face back to the sky.

"_Farewell, hunter. Fly you far._

_My guide shall always be your star._"

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**1G **Shimmer Argent** 18**

**2B **Carn Hurdy** 18**

**2G **Thera Adrastea** 17**

**7B **Jude Paraux** 17**

**7G **Robin Sarabia** 16**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor** 15**

**11B **Briar Tussen** 12**

**11G **Anise Leenan** 15**


	15. Clear Glass Tears

"It's been two days," the Head Gamemaker says. "Anise hasn't done anything notable. Some viewers enjoyed Kayla's poem last night, but that's not enough. We need action."

"Go ahead," the psychologist nonchalantly replies. "Everyone's in the right place now, and Kayla's in the perfect state of mind."

The Head Gamemaker shakes his head. "I don't know what you're hoping for, but…"

He turns to Varinius. "Bring down the house."

Varinius nods and presses a dark blue button, which opens a panel on the wall next to him, revealing a bright red button, which he then presses as well.

All eyes turn to the large television screen.

**XXX**

**BROADCASTING LIVE FROM THE CAPITOL**

_[Arial view of the mountain at mid-morning.]_

**CT: **Well, good morning, Panem, and welcome to day six of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games! This is Claudius Templesmith, here with my trusty guest commentators to report on the events of today. Now, I have just received word from the Gamemakers that things in the arena are about to get a little…shaky!"

_[Right on cue, a low rumble is heard, which quickly increases in volume and intensity as the mountain begins to shake. The camera cuts between the Career pack (18, 1; 18, 2; 17, 2) and the Sevens (17, 7; 16, 7), who are holding tightly to trees and rocks, and Briar (12, 11), who is attempting to tie himself to the trunk of the tree he'd been sleeping in with his rope.]_

_[The rocky, eastern side of the mountain begins to fall apart. Kayla (15, 9) stands at the edge of her ledge, one hand holding the strap of her backpack, staring up in horror at the massive boulders tumbling down towards her.]_

_[She has nowhere to run. Her tunnel is already crushed.]_

_[Suddenly, another figure comes bounding down the near-vertical slope, leaping from rock to rock, moving almost too quickly for the cameras to catch her. It's Anise (15, 11). The lithe, dark-skinned girl lands on the ledge, grabs Kayla, who drops her backpack as she's lifted off her feet. Anise clambers over the tumbling rocks, getting battered by stones as she pushes her way upward, somehow gaining height instead of being brought down…]_

_[Finally, she sets Kayla down on solid ground, and they stand among the trees, staring at each other.]_

**CP: **Did you see that? She saved her!

**YE: **Anise Leenan just saved Kayla Rakkor!

**CT: **Well, this is…a most unexpected turn of events!

**SM: **Speaking of unexpected, look at Kayla! Look!

**XXX**

The door to Vivienne's bedroom slams shut behind her as she quickly strides down the hall, towards the elevator. It opens before she reaches it.

"You saw?" Aspen asks as she steps in beside him.

The District Nine mentor nods. "Let's go."

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

All I can do is stare. My brain isn't working properly, too busy trying to wrap itself around what just happened.

There was an avalanche. I had been about to be crushed by falling rocks. I should be dead now…but I'm not.

_Anise Leenan saved my life._

I stare at her, the dark-skinned, dark-haired, and even darker-eyed girl who stands at least a head taller than me because of her long legs, staring silently back at me. But she isn't looking at my face. She's looking at…

_Oh, no…_

My legs. She's looking at my legs. When she set me down on my feet again, I forgot to favor my right leg!

"Oh…" I mutter. "I…um…"

_So what if she knows? _a voice in my head says. _She just saved your life. Why would she do that if she was just going to sell you out to Shimmer's pack?_

"…well, it looks like the jig is up," I say, attempting a smile.

Anise nods, but says nothing. I notice that her arms and face are very bruised, probably from the falling rocks.

"You're hurt," I say.

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe you."

Again she does not respond, and again we stare at each other.

The silver parachute lands right in-between us. Neither of us goes to pick it up.

"It's yours," I say. "It must be."

Anise shakes her head. "You take it."

"You just saved my life. You must have sponsors lining up at the door right now. It's yours."

"I won't take it."

I sigh.

"You stay right there," I say, bending over to pick up the parachute. I half expect to see her gone when I straighten, running like she did back in the Training Center, gone as swiftly as she had come.

She's still here as I straighten again and unwrap the package, her calm eyes watching my hands. It's a pretty big package. The first thing to come out is a small clay pot. I place the rest of the package back on the ground and open the pot. Inside is a white, creamy substance.

_Food? Or some kind of lotion?_

I touch the cream with a finger. It cools my skin.

"This might be for bruises," I say. "Sid down, and I'll try it on you."

Anise hesitates.

"Please," I say. "I have to do something… You've got to let me help you."

Slowly, warily, Anise sits down on the grass, her legs crossed. I kneel down in front of her, scooping some of the cream into my hand. She flinches as my hand nears her arm.

"Don't worry," I say. "I' not going to hurt you. You saved my life."

Her eyes meet mine and stay there. In them I see a roiling mix of emotions, but the most prominent ones are fear and sadness. Lots of sadness, even more than I've seen in her before, on the roof of the Training Center, or while she told Caesar Flickerman about killing her mother. She said that, but I don't think that Anise is a killer…and yet, some great sorrow constantly haunts her stance…

My fingers rub cream onto the bruises on her arm, and I can see the relief that it brings her. The purple-brown marks fade away. This is powerful Capitol medicine. _How did District Eleven get so much money, so quickly?_

I heal the bruises on her other arm, and by the time I reach her face, the eyes staring back at me have a hint of trust in them.

"Is that better?" I ask.

Anise nods. "Thank you…"

"Thank your sponsors." I pick up the rest of the package and hold it out to her. "Whatever else is in there must be yours, too."

"You don't want it?" she asks, sounding surprised.

"Why would I take from you, Anise? If anything, _I _owe _you_ now."

Anise shakes her head. "You owe me nothing. I'm not worth that."

"Do you really think that?"

She doesn't answer. I unwrap the rest of the package. It's a large, gray container, maybe made out of plastic, sealed tight. I pry open the lid, and the wonderful smell hits me hard. Inside there's chicken—well-cooked, much better than the near-raw meat I've been cautiously making—and bread, and a bowl of mixed fruits and vegetables. Besides the food, which makes both of our stomachs growl and reminds me of the fact that I lost all of my supplies today, there are two plates and two spoons.

"This was meant for both of us," I realize. "I wonder…maybe our mentors pooled resources."

I glance around, suddenly remembering that I'm not hidden from the rest of the mountain anymore.

"Who's still out here?" I whisper. "There's Shimmer, and both from District Two…"

"Jude and Robin from Seven, and Briar," Anise finishes. "They're nowhere near here. Shimmer's got her pack on the western side of the mountain, and the others are near the peak."

"You've been keeping an eye on them?"

"I run," says Anise. "There's nothing else to do out here. Sometimes I pass the others."

"I've been hiding in a tunnel this whole time," I say. "So I really don't know what's been going on. Have you seen any mutts?"

"Spiders," says Anise. "Giant spiders. I think the Careers killed them all, though."

I nod slowly.

"Let's find some shelter," I say. "It's too open here… Then we'll eat."

I stand up, and Anise follows my lead. I remember what she said about not wanting allies, back in the Training Center—_Was it really only a week ago?_—but that doesn't seem to matter anymore, at least not around this sudden rescue and feast.

We don't have to walk very far. The falling rocks created a wall of outcrops and alcoves, with a space or two large enough to provide a cave for both of us to sit in comfortably. Water streams down the rocks, pooling near the bottom.

"The avalanche must have changed the flow of the waterfall," Anise says, dipping a finger into the growing pond.

"The waterfall?"

"At the top," she explains. "It's the only source of water. It drops all the way down the mountain."

I nod. "Let's eat."

We tear into the food, but silently, slowly. Neither of us eats very much. Soon, we're just sitting and staring at each other again.

"Why did you save me?"

I want to slap myself the instant the words are out of my mouth, the expression in her eyes is so painful. It's like everything a face could do to show discomfort—a frown, a sigh, a shrug, tears—are in Anise's eyes.

"…because I had to," Anise says, her voice so low that I'm sure I misheard.

"What?"

"I had to," she repeats, speaking more forcefully. "I had to. I can't bear to kill again."

"Who else here have you killed?" I ask.

"No one here…"

The white cream on her face seems to accentuate the strain in her expression.

_Her mother. She means her mother._

"I don't think that you're a killer, Anise," I say.

The stare that she fixes me in is unsettling.

"Am I?" she says. "A killer is someone who causes death. If it weren't for me, my mother would still be alive."

"How did she die, Anise?"

_Why am I asking her such painful questions?_

…_because she needs to talk about it. I just know she does._

"I was born," Anise says. "I was born, and she died. The birth was too much for her to handle. I should have died, then, too. It would have been the only just thing. But I didn't. The killer lives on, and the death goes without being avenged.

"This was hers," she continues, raising her arm to show me the green bracelet around her wrist. "I wear is, so that I'll always remember what I am, what I've done. I'm the reason my mother is dead. I'm the reason that my father hasn't smiled in fifteen years, three months, and ten days. People tell me that my mother was beautiful, that she was full of laughter and song. I destroyed that, Kayla! I killed that! She's dead, and it's my fault, and everyone knows that it's my fault! I killed…"

Her voice trails off, and the first tear leaves a dark line in the whiteness on her cheek. I slide over to her and place my arms around her, and she leans into my torso. The clear glass wall is crying, and I try to comfort her. This must be the first time that she's ever ranted to anyone about how she felt. So much emotion, and no way to vent… This poor, brave, hurting, good girl…

My voice comes out soft, but strong.

"_Many nights you've cried,_

_So silently that none could hear,_

_Hoping that someone would know_

_To come and hold you near._

_Now, in this land of pain,_

_Which only one will leave alive,_

_Know that I will hold you close_

_And help you to survive…_

"_Let loose the troubled heart_

_You hold within._

_We're of a kind,_

_You are my kin._

_There is no suffering now,_

_While you're with me._

_There's only hope,_

_I hope you see,_

_While you are here with me…_

"_Forget about the past,_

_Where hunters prowl after prey._

_For this moment, all your fears_

_Will cease and go away._

_You must believe my words:_

_There is a better way to live._

_See the beauty in the world_

_And all it has to give…_

"_The flower that you are_

_Should never wilt._

_Don't let your head_

_Hang low with guilt._

_It is misplaced, my friend;_

_You're not at fault._

_Keep running on,_

_And never halt._

_You'll always be with me…_"

I don't know where my words come from, what piece of my mind translates emotion and thought into voice, but whatever it is that drives me to speak, to nearly sing, I love it, because it makes Anise relax in my arms, eyes closed and the faintest of smiles upon her face.

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I finally leave the trees behind me and come out onto open rock. In front of me is a stream, which begins somewhere in the rocks to my left and flows over the edge of this flattened peak as a waterfall. I approach the edge and glance over cautiously. The water falls down, all the way down the mountain to the ground. I'm higher up than I've ever been before, even in the trees of District Eleven's orchards.

Now that I've found the top, I don't know what to do with it. I've had a goal these past three days, a driving purpose. Now, I don't.

_It's getting dark… I'll decide what to do tomorrow morning._

I pull the sleeping bag out of my backpack and lay it out next to the stream. The anthem begins to play as I get in it, but there were no deaths today, so the sky quickly goes dark again.

_I wonder what's going on at home, _I think._ Mom's probably putting Anthea to bed, and then she'll be listening to the commentators with Dad… She would be tucking me into bed right now…_

Thinking about home makes me sad. I miss District Eleven so much…

_This won't do! Come on, Briar, think of something happy. Make up a song!_

"_Sparkly, sparkly, shining star,_" I sing, looking up at the sky. "_Up inside the sky, so far. With your friends, you're not alone. Won't you show me the way home…?_"

_I want to go home…_

I curl up in my sleeping bag and cry myself to sleep.

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**1G **Shimmer Argent** 18**

**2B **Carn Hurdy** 18**

**2G **Thera Adrastea** 17**

**7B **Jude Paraux** 17**

**7G **Robin Sarabia** 16**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor** 15**

**11B **Briar Tussen** 12**

**11G **Anise Leenan** 15**

**A.N.: **No Career sections this chapter… Kayla's just kept getting longer and longer, and then… Well, Shimmer's probably planning my doom right now, so I shall be duly punished, I'm sure!

The next chapter should be very exciting…

Aside from that, if any of you know the song "When You Believe" from the movie _Prince of Egypt_, you might notice that Kayla's poem can be sung to that tune. I had it in my head while writing. :)


	16. Blood

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

I dream that I am back in District Nine, walking through the woods. The sunlight is filtering through the trees, and I am trying to avoid making up poems about the dappled patterns it makes on the ground as I creep through the trees, hunting. The bow in my hands is loaded, but I have yet to see any prey today. I need to find something before I go home, to help fill my family's quota. Food turned in to the butchers means food for us.

Then I hear the soft whining, and I know that I am dreaming about a specific day, when I was thirteen.

I cautiously step around a tree, and then I see the wolf.

The wolf, standing maybe two yards away from me, staring at me with its brown eyes. Its gray and white fur is long and sleek, and it eyes me warily. I hold my bow out in front of me, hesitant to fire. I rarely ever see wolves in the woods, but in school we are taught that they are incredibly fast and skilled hunters. If I run, it might give chase. If I shoot and miss, she might attack. If I kill her, then I get a good kill. Wolf meat is not as wanted, but wolf fur is a precious thing. There would be a lot of food on the table tonight.

I begin to slowly pull back the string, hoping that she won't move, won't attack…

Then I see the snare, hanging from a nearby tree branch. I also see that it has caught something by the neck, something small and furry.

A wolf pup. It's probably this wolf's baby.

I look at the wolf, and then at the dead pup, and then back at the wolf. She's still staring at me, and I look deep into her light brown eyes. There's an expression in those eyes, an emotion that I can't name, that I don't know. It's old and it's sad, and there's an emptiness at its center.

On that day, I turned and ran back home. Now, in the dream, I walk up to the wolf and I sit down in front of her, setting my bow and arrows aside. The wolf's face changes, gray fur turning to brown skin, and then Anise is kneeling in front of me. She takes my head in her hands and kisses my forehead. Then she stands up and runs away, and the woods fade into darkness.

When I wake up, much later, she's gone.

**XXX**

**Briar Tussen, 12, District 11**

I wake up to the sound of fast footsteps, someone running through the trees, but by the time I'm out of my sleeping bag my attacker is already on top of me. I scream and beat at her with my fists, but she pins me to the ground with my arms and legs tucked beneath me. It's Robin.

"Hey, Jude!" she shouts over my yells and the rush of the waterfall. "Come on!"

I try to roll over and push her off, but she holds me down.

"Stop it, you little pipsqueak! You'll send us both over the edge!" she snarls.

Jude comes loping out onto the rocky peak, moving slowly, with bandages wrapped around his leg. They don't seem to affect how well he holds his battleaxe, though.

"We gotcha, monkey!" he cackles, raising the weapon high over his head as he approaches.

_He's going to kill me! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!_

"No, no, no!" I wail. "Help me! _Help! Mom! Dad! Help!_"

"Briar! _Briar!_"

Someone's screaming my name, too, and just as Jude swings his axe downward she comes sprinting out of the forest, barreling into Jude and grabbing Robin's hood, her momentum carrying them all over the edge of the cliff.

I roll onto my stomach, staring down at the three rapidly receding figures. The big one's Jude, the smaller is Robin, and between them…

"Anise!" I gasp.

They hit the ground, and the axe buries itself in Jude's back. I can see the blood stain the ground, even from up here, the blood from his back and their heads.

Three cannons fire in quick succession.

"_Anise!_" I wail, crying her name down the mountain, over the noise of the waterfall. "Anise…"

Tears blur my vision, and I curl up into a ball, sobbing.

_Anise… She saved me… She's dead… She's dead…!_

I can still see her, crying on the roof of the Training Center, refusing sweets on the train, smiling as she hugged me good-bye…and back in District Eleven, when she ran by my house, looking so happy and free…

_She shouldn't have died. It's because of the stronger people, the bigger tributes. They killed her._

The tears slow, and for some reason, despite all of the sadness, all I can think about is the rope.

_The rope._

_The rope._

In my mind, I see many loops linked together, hanging from a tree…

I sit up straight.

_They killed her._

_I'll kill them._

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

I keep us moving, so that I can think. Three cannons fired this morning. _Who were they?_

Yesterday, there were eight tributes in the arena. Thera, Carn, and I are here. That leaves Jude and Robin, both from Eleven, and the girl from Nine. Did Jude and Robin take down the weaker three? Or did the three somehow overcome one or both of them, while one or two of them died in the battle?

I can't assume anything. I can't risk killing Thera or Carn now, if the other two still out there are Jude and Robin. I'll have to wait until nighttime, when I'll know for sure.

_If both Jude and Robin are dead, then I'll kill both Carn and Thera. Carn first—I'll stick a poisoned knife in his back before he suspects anything. If not—_

There's a scuffle behind me, and Carn yelps. I whirl around to see him pulled off of his feet and into the air by a rope around his leg, and another rope falls around his neck—

There's a faint snap, and then Carn Hurdy's cannon fires.

He's dead.

There's a rustling in the bushes as someone tries to escape. I throw a knife towards the movement, and there's a yelp. Thera hurries over, slices, and there's another cannon.

"District Eleven boy," she announces, wiping his blood off of her sword.

My mind races. Two more deaths. That means that there are three tributes left. Me, Thera, and…who? Either Jude, Robin, or the Nine girl. I could take any of them on my own.

That leaves Thera.

I draw a poisoned knife in my left hand and Phenom's sword in my right at the exact instant that she draws her own. We stand still for a few moments, facing each other.

"Go ahead," I say. "Make your move…while you still can."

"Only one of us is going to leave this spot," she replies. "It's not going to be you."

"You sure about that?" I grin, baring my teeth. "Because, if you ask me, I think you're frightened."

"I'm not frightened!" Thera snaps. "You're the one who has reason to be afraid here."

"No, I'm not," I calmly correct. "You, on the other hand, have bungled things from day one. You're on the verge of having to face things leaderless for the first time in your life. There's no mentors, no help after this. You're helpless, Thera Adrastea. You're useless, and no matter how big a blade you hold, that's not going to change. You poor, pitiful, worthless thing."

She flips out, letting out a screeching wail and charging at me, sword held outright. I bat it away easily with my own, grinning even wider now. Carn wasn't the only one who had anger issues, and now I have a clear advantage.

Thera stumbles to the side, and then swings her sword at me again. Again I block her attack, deflecting the blow into the foliage. But she's facing me again, faster than I would have expected her to be able to given her anger and lesser skill with a blade. Her attacks are coming so quickly, I have to focus on my swordplay, rather than the knife in my other hand. _If I could just…get…by…_

We slash and slice at each other, ducking around trees, moving away from the two corpses. I shrug off my backpack, leaving it on the ground so that I can move more freely. Thera swings around a thick trunk and runs, and I follow.

We come to a clearing, where she turns and swings at my neck. I duck, rolling forward into her legs. She stumbles backwards and falls. I shove myself back onto my feet and bring the sword down towards her, only for her to thrust upwards, slicing through my right leg.

"Augh!" I shout. I drop the knife and grab the blade of her sword, cutting my hand as I yank it out of my leg and out of her grip. As I stagger aside, dropping the sword, too, she rolls to her feet. My blood is splattered all over her face.

Thera lunges for her sword, and as she picks it up I grab my other poisoned knife and stab it into her side. She screams and swipes wildly at me, opening another cut on my cheek, but I stab her again and again, until the venom must be everywhere in her bloodstream and she's in a fetal position on the ground, screaming her head off.

The screams get louder and louder, and then they finally stop, and yet another cannon fires.

I sag to the ground, pressing both hands over the wound in my leg. I have to stop the bleeding, first of all, or else I'll be dead. The wound is deep, but I don't think that she severed any major arteries, and the cuts on my face and hand are superficial.

A silver parachute lands next to me, and I rip the package open. It's a medical kit—painkillers, and most important right now, bandages. I wrap my leg and then my hand in gauze, refusing to let myself wince in pain.

_I'm above that. I'm the best fighter in this arena. She just got a few lucky strikes in, that's all. Makes it more dramatic._

Once I've fixed myself up, I try to stand. Pain shoots through my leg, and I quickly find that I can only move around if I limp heavily. I curse softly. This won't help me win.

I stick the two swords into Thera's body, so that they'll be collected. _Whoever's left, I'll take them at a distance._

I grab the medical kit, Thera's backpack and my knives and I begin to slowly make my way back towards where I dropped mine earlier. Heading all the way back to where Carn died would be pointless. No doubt his backpack and sword, as well as the rope and anything else the Eleven boy had, were taken by the hovercraft that came to get them.

_This leaves me with not much food, and even less supplies… All I can do now is wait for sunset, to find out who I'm up against._

**XXX**

Claudius Templesmith and his buddies are jabbering on about how _exciting _things are, and how they can't _wait _to see what happens next, but their words barely register with Vivienne as she stares blankly at the screen.

"Hey."

Aspen sits down in the chair next to her.

"Hey," the District Nine mentor replies, turning her head to look over at him.

"Some day," Aspen says with a shrug.

Vivienne nods slowly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't like there was anything we could do…and they died bravely, both of them."

Vivienne nods again. "When does your train leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, after breakfast," Aspen replies. "Or…or later, if you want."

A small smile crosses Vivienne's lips, and she shakes her head.

"No," she says. "Go home. Comfort the families. You know the drill."

The anthem is played over the television, and despite themselves they turn to face the screen again as the death recap begins. It had been a very bloody day in the arena. The two mentors silently watch Anise Leenan, Jude Paraux, and Robin Sarabia tumble down the waterfall, Carn Hurdy hung by a noose, Briar Tussen's neck get sliced open, and finally Thera Adrastea succumbing to her poisoned wounds.

"It's hard to believe that this was all just one day," Vivienne mutters as the screen shows a split-screen view of the arena, with Shimmer Argent on one side and Kayla Rakkor on the other, while the pictures of the dead are revealed in the sky above them.

_Carn Hurdy, 18, District 2. Thera Adrastea, 17, District 2. Jude Paraux, 17, District 7. Robin Sarabia, 16, District 7. Briar Tussen, 12, District 11._

_Anise Leenan, 15, District 11._

Kayla's hands clap over her mouth, and she sags back against the rocks, tears streaming down her cheeks. Shimmer laughs, leaning against a tree with an expression of incredulous delight on her face. She takes out a knife and tosses it into the air, catching it again and placing it back in her belt, which now holds three normal knives and two poisoned ones. The camera focuses on Kayla for several moments after it stops filming Shimmer, but she's not saying anything, just trembling. The screen shifts to an aerial view of the mountain.

Vivienne shakes her head. "What's she going to do now, Aspen? Even with that leg wound, Shimmer's got her out-armed and out-skilled."

The District Eleven mentor does not respond. After several silent minutes, he stands up.

"See you at the Victory Tour," he says, touching a hand to her shoulder before he leaves the room.

It takes a moment for Vivienne to comprehend his words, which she realizes had been less of a farewell and more of an answer to her question.

"_What's she going to do now, Aspen?"_

"_She's going to win."_

Vivienne closes her eyes. _If only that were true…_

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute**-Name-**Age**

**1G **Shimmer Argent **18**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor **15**


	17. Why Me?

**CT: **Good morning, Panem! After just seven days in the arena—and what an exciting seven days it has been!—it appears that we are down to two tributes: Shimmer Argent of District One and Kayla Rakkor of District Nine. I must say, this is one pairing that I was not expecting.

**CP: **Well, Shimmer's lived up to everyone's expectations, but Kayla's surprised us all again and again since the beginning. How about that fake limp, huh?

**YE: **She was just able to slip away without anyone being the wiser. I bet she's got something else up her sleeves right now.

**CT: **Sartorius, do the fans agree with Yvanna?

**SM: **It depends where you look, Claudius. It seems that most people are betting that Shimmer will win—she has nearly twenty to one odds at the moment, in fact—but Kayla is getting much more sponsorship money, even from people who publicly betted on Shimmer! It's an odd combination.

**CT: **That it is. Now, we could speculate all day as to what's going through the heads of our Final Two, or we could cut live to District One, where we have Excel Argent, father to Shimmer!

_[Camera cut to the living room of a house in District One, where Excel is sitting on a couch across from the interview and camera crew, who are out of sight.]_

**Interviewer: **Your daughter's a step away from winning the Hunger Games. What's going through your mind? Are you scared for her?

**Excel Argent: **Scared? _[laughs] _That couldn't be farther from the truth! Shimmer's going to win, simple as that.

**I: **But is it really so simple? She had a bit of trouble during yesterday's battle with Thera Adrastea of District Two.

**EA: **That wasn't trouble. That stab was dumb luck on the part of that Two girl. And what good did it do her? She ended up screaming on the ground.

**I: **And Shimmer ended up with a pretty serious injury, and a well-fed, unwounded opponent.

**EA: **_[leans forward] _Now, you listen to me. Shimmer's _meant _to win this year's Games. She's got the strength, she's got the skill, and she's got the determination. My daughter's not about to let something like a cut leave her at the mercy of some wimp from Nine who hasn't got a single kill on her record. That Nine girl doesn't know what to do with a weapon. She recites silly poetry! Since when has someone been killed by words? No, the Victory is Shimmer's. There's no doubt in my mind about that. It's only a matter of time before that crown sits on her head.

**I: **I bet you can't wait to move in to the Victor's Block, huh? It's gotten a bit crowded over the past few years.

**EA: **Those people, those Victors are the epitome of today's society. They know how to win. Shimmer knows how to win. She'll get us there. It will be an honor to live among them.

**I: **Thank you, Mr. Argent. Claudius?

_[Camera cut back to the commentators.]_

**CT: **Now, let's get back to the arena, shall we?

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

Victory is so close, I can almost taste it. However, it's dulled by the foul taste of the Capitol painkillers, which I have been taking quite a lot today.

I curse and shift to yet another position, trying to alleviate the pain in my leg. Thera's sword must have done more damage than I had initially thought.

But I can't let this hold me down. I'll let myself rest today, but tomorrow I go hunting for Nine. I can't remember her name, not that it matters, anyway. She's probably holed up somewhere, barely alive. She'll be an easy kill.

_Still… both Jude and Robin ended up dead yesterday, and the only people who were in any position to kill them were the Elevens and Nine. Eleven Boy could have rigged up one of them in a rope like he did to Carn, but he'd need someone else to take down the other… Probably he hung Jude and had his District partner, that girl who snagged him at the Cornucopia, take Robin. But that doesn't work out, because by the end of the day Eleven Girl was dead, too… Did Robin and Eleven Girl kill each other? Did the Elevens split up, and Nine took down Eleven Girl while Eleven Boy took down Carn? No, the three cannons were right together. That changes everything. Either Nine or Eleven Boy killed Jude, Robin, and Eleven Girl all at the same time._

_How the hell did they do that?_

It doesn't make sense, and I don't like it. That, plus the pain, has put me into a _very _bad mood.

I will enjoy killing Nine. I will enjoy returning to the Capitol and being crowned Victor. I will enjoy arriving back in District One and making my father proud. I will enjoy it all, very, very much.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

I set my pack down on the ground and sit down on a rock. This morning I left the cave—I couldn't stay there any longer—packing all of the leftover food into my backpack. I've been wandering through the woods all day, with no direction in mind. My feet have done the work, without my asking anything of them, which is fortunate, because I don't know if I could. My head hangs low; my arms are limp at my sides.

I feel empty, alone, purposeless.

"What do I do now, Anise?" I whisper. "Berg… Where do I go from here? I don't know what to do…"

I look around, searching for them.

"Where are you?" I ask. "Iceberg? Anise? I need you. I need your help. I can't do this alone…"

I thought that I had cried myself out last night, but the tears are still coming, and there are no arms to hold me anymore. The night spent in Anise's embrace is long gone, and the assuring presence of the Hunter had been lost before that.

"_You're gone,_" I say. "_Far from my sight._

_Far from this land, this day, this night,_

_And, oh, this doesn't feel right._

_It's not, don't you see?_

"_You were my guides, you were my friends,_

_You held me close, your strength did fend_

_Off dark and gloom. Your lives did end._

_But why not me?_

"_Why am I still sitting here?_

_Why can I not feel you near?_

_Why am I the one so drear?_

_Why me, why me?_

"_Hunter, you're the one with skill!_

_Sister, you are better still!_

_If I'm to live, I have to kill!_

_Why me, why me?_

"_What did I do to survive?_

_For what do I have to strive?_

_Why am I the one alive?_

_Why me, why me?_

"_Why have I been left alone,_

_With both your lives stuck to my own?_

_Who has set this hateful tone_

_On me, on me?_

"_It's not right! I should be dead!_

_There shouldn't be thoughts in my head!_

_You both should live in my stead!_

_Why me? Why me?_

"_Can I set right what went wrong?_

_Can I end the Poet's song?_

_Can I be where I belong?_

_Can I? Why me?_

"_I thought I knew my place, my role,_

_But nothing is in my control._

_I do not even own my soul! _

"_Why me? Why me? Why me?"_

By the end, I'm screaming the words, spitting them out into a non-answering forest.

There's no one to hear but the birds.

**XXX**

Vivienne hands the sponsor form to the receptionist behind the desk and walks over to a nearby lounge, where a large television screen is constantly playing. She sits in one of the too-comfortable chairs and waits as the cameras switch from commentary to arena, arena to commentary. The form had had her request written on it exactly as she had wanted it. The object she was having sent to Kayla would leave her scraping the bottom of her remaining sponsorship funds, but she had to send it. She had to somehow tell Kayla that there was someone out there watching, who wasn't betting on her life, but rather out to preserve it and stand by her. She had to show her that her life was still in her own control, even though it had been so battered.

The mentor could only hope that the girl would understand the object's significance. Most viewers likely would not. Some might even call her crazy for sending it, given the girl's current state of mind, but Vivienne felt that it was worth the risk.

The silver parachute lands gently on the grass in front of Kayla, who hadn't moved from her seated position since her earlier rant. The fifteen-year-old stares at the parachute for a moment before sliding down off of the rock and onto the ground, her fingers numbly fumbling with the fabric, slowly finding the slender object attached.

It's a knife, a beautifully crafted hunting weapon, made in District Nine itself. The camera zooms in on its intricately carved wooden handle, which is engraved with animals and trees, rabbits and deer, wolves and birds twisting through leaves and branches in a strange symphony of nature. The blade of the knife is slightly curved and very, very sharp, perfect for finishing off wounded prey.

The commentators are babbling about the knife's origin, and what good of a weapon it would be, and so expensive too, but Vivienne isn't listening to them. She's watching Kayla, watching as the girl stares at the knife in her hands, and then as she slowly brings the knife up towards her neck.

Kayla touches the tip of the blade to her throat, the slight hook in the sharp metal tucked around her jugular.

For once in his life, Claudius Templesmith is silent.

A breeze stirs the branches of the trees, and somewhere a bird whistles its salutations.

Kayla's dark eyes look upward, through the leaves, to the sky.

She slides the knife into her belt and stands up, putting on her backpack. Then she nods to the sky and walks off into the trees.

The general commentary blather picks up again, analyzing what just happened, but Vivienne leans back in her chair, relaxed.

The girl had understood.

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute**-Name-**Age**

**1G **Shimmer Argent **18**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor **15**


	18. The Hopeful Hunter

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

Back in District Nine, the hunting weapons are kept under constant guard at night by the Peacekeepers. Every morning around dawn, the hunting class—"Woodsies" we call ourselves, because we live right at the edge of the trees, as opposed to the merchant "Townies"—goes to the weapon stores, where we are each issued a bow with five arrows, a coil of rope, and a hunting knife, like the one hanging from my belt now. If a Woodsy fails to return a weapon, even if it's just an arrow, he or she gets a public whipping and reduced pay. But despite this risk, there is one thing that all Woodsies agree on, and that's that there is a sort of thrill in stalking through the woods, tracking prey and calculating the way to get the most kills and, therefore, food in payment; knowing that you, with the bow in your hands, the quiver on your back, the rope on a branch, and the knife at your waist, are the hunter.

All this I remember now, with the knife at my waist and the wind in my hair as I lope through the woods with a steady hunter's tread. Because I _am _a hunter. I am Kayla Rakkor of District Nine, a proud Woodsy.

"_Time to run, time to glide,_

_Not to shiver, not to hide,_

_With the spirits of my allies by my side…_"

I keep glimpsing Bergamot in the trees, feeling Anise's gentle touch around my shoulders, and both of them are whispering to me. They _are _here, truly, whispering encouragement. I do not intend to fail them.

**XXX**

**CP: **Well, Kayla seems to be in a much better mood today!

**YE: **She most certainly does! And to think, just yesterday, she seemed close to killing herself!

**CT: **She _has _turned out to be quite the complex girl, Yvanne. What do you say we get more of an insight into who she is through an exclusive interview with her parents, Artem and Dina Rakkor?

_[The camera cuts to a man and a woman standing outside of a long wooden building. They are light-tan skinned with dark hair and eyes, just like Kayla, and they are dressed in simple, faded green and gray clothing and armed with bows, knives, and rope._

**Interviewer: **Oh, I won't keep you long; you'll get back to the woods soon. I just wanted to ask what you could tell us about Kayla.

**Artem Rakkor: **_[shrugs] _She's our daughter. Kayla is a lovely girl. Usually quiet, a thinker.

**I: **Has she always been a poet?

**Dina Rakkor: **As long as she has been able to speak, she has turned words into beautiful things.

**I: **How sweet! But do you think that her words will save her from Shimmer?

**AR: **She will not need saving from Shimmer. Kayla has been a hunter her entire life. We make a living hunting here. She is very skilled.

**I: **And she's wily, too. Did she tell you that she'd be faking a limp when she was reaped?

**DR: **Yes, we knew. Kayla made that plan when she was twelve. It kept her from being afraid. She is good at keeping fear at bay.

**I: **But what about the pacing, the near suicide? Her odds of coming home, afraid or not, are—

**DR: **_[frowns] _She will come home! My daughter, our Kayla will pull through, no matter what plagues her mind. We will be waiting for her.

**AR: **_[places a hand on his wife's shoulder] _We have to go. We have a quota to fill, and the day is not waiting for us.

**I: **Of course. Claudius?

**XXX**

The Head Gamemaker frowns at his screen and switches it off, turning to the large television screen, where Shimmer is depicted forcing herself to pace back and forth with gritted teeth. Each step obviously sends jolts of pain through her leg, but she keeps at her exercise with a grim determination.

"Estimate on her health?" the Head Gamemaker asks.

"Thera cut her deep, but not deep enough to keep her down," a woman replies, glancing at a medical report. "If it comes down to a fight, her adrenaline will keep her going despite the pain. She's too strong and too skilled for it not to."

"And Kayla?"

The woman shakes her head. "I wouldn't bet too much on her chances. While she's unwounded and well-fed, she'd have to get close to Shimmer to do any definite damage with that knife, and Shimmer's still armed, and her accuracy throwing those knives is as close to perfect as you can get."

"But as Sartorius Mastorian reports, the nation doesn't want to see Kayla with a knife in her back…" the Head Gamemaker says, rubbing his temples. "It would be too quick, besides. Not exciting enough. No, this must not come down to a simple duel. We can't allow it."

"So what do we do?" Varinius asks. "Just throw stuff at Shimmer until she dies and Kayla wins?"

"We can't do that, either," the Head Gamemaker replies.

"But you just said that the audience wants Kayla—"

"The audience pities Kayla," the Head Gamemaker corrects, looking over at Varinius. "Pity and want are two different things. Whichever girl wins, we could please the Capitol in the end. Shimmer would be the unstoppable force, the iconic tribute. Kayla would be the one who overcame all odds and won the nation's heart with her purity. We could still pull it both ways. But we can't let it come down to just a fight. That would be far too quick, and far too one-sided. We need both of them to have a ghost of a chance. We need the audience to be on the edge of their seats."

The Head Gamemaker's frown lifts slightly as the idea forms.

"It's time to activate your safeguards," he says.

"Now?" Varinius says, one hand hovering over his control board.

"No, not now," says the Head Gamemaker. "Tomorrow morning, when there's plenty of light for the viewers. They might have run into each other by that point, if Kayla keeps walking in the same direction. Let them sleep one more night, let the people place their bets… Then activate them."

The Head Gamemaker looks around the room at his coworkers.

"Gentlemen, ladies, these Games are nearing their end," he says. "Let's not loosen our grip on events now. Let's make this a finale to remember."

The others silently return his gaze and nod.

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute**-Name-**Age**

**1G **Shimmer Argent **18**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor **15**


	19. Finality

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

There's something final about today.

I feel it as I wake up, before my eyes are even open. When I do open my eyes, and I blink up at the rising sun, which is peeking down at me through the treetops, the feeling becomes more pronounced. It's as though I know that I won't be seeing this sun rise in this arena again. Usually at home I can tell when the Gamemakers are about to end the Hunger Games, just by watching and waiting. It's been long enough since anything "exciting" happened.

It will all be over soon, one way or the other.

"_One way," says Bergamot, turning to face me. "But not the other."_

"Do you still think that I'm going home, Iceberg?" I ask, slowly sitting up from my position curled up among the roots. "No, of course I'm going home. The question is if I'll be in a coffin."

A stray breeze slides past my face, caressing my cheek.

"Maybe, Anise…" I whisper, my fingers curling around the hilt of the knife in my belt. "I have to try, at least. I'm not a killer…but am I a Victor? You said that I was, Berg, back on the roof…"

I pick up my backpack, which is still well-stocked with now-cold food.

"_So, am I a hunter now?_

_Will I win? I don't know how_

_Or when or where. It will be soon;_

_This morning, or this afternoon_

_I'll know for sure. And then…_

_And then…_"

I don't know how to end it. For once, there are no more words in my head.

I shoulder my backpack and walk through the trees. The birds are singing their songs back and forth, and a few squirrels cross the branches over my head. It's like I'm in District Nine already, except not.

Suddenly, all birdsong ceases, and the rest of the woodland activity seems to disappear, as though it was never there. I glance around warily but keep walking. _Better to go towards the end of the story than away from it._

I step out of the trees and onto a flat expanse of light-gray rock. A few inches from my feet is a round metal plate, and in the distance sits a golden horn, its mouth open to me and its floor covered in ashes and scorch marks.

This is the Cornucopia.

_I never had a bloodbath, _I think. _I left so quickly… Maybe it's right that something should happen here, that it should end here, where I left the Games. I was out of the Games for so long, and now I'm finally in it. I'm truly a part of the Games now. It's high time I filled my quota, paid my dues._

I lean onto my left leg. Maybe the Plan, which has done nothing for me so far, will buy me a few seconds in the end. I can hope.

And I'll have to do a lot of hoping, really quickly, because there, on the other side of the clearing, stands Shimmer Argent.

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

The residual pain in my leg slides completely out of my mind as I see her, standing on the other side of the clearing. Nine. Her dark brown eyes flicker up to mine, and she hesitates.

I don't.

My hand whips up and over, and one poisoned knife slices through the air towards the girl. She won't be able to dodge it, not with my aim and that leg of hers—

She dodges it. She _dodges _it! She shoves herself to the right more quickly than should be _possible _with only one leg, and the dagger flies harmlessly into the woods, probably sticking into a tree somewhere. Lost now, irrelevant now.

_How?_

No time for _how_, only for _act! _Nine hits the ground and rolls, and I move towards her, dragging my useless leg behind me. Her arms are tangled up in her backpack, and I take the moment to throw another knife, a normal one. She lifts her arms up, and the backpack intercepts the knife. Something inside the pack is thick enough to make the knife stick. I gnash my teeth as she slides her arms out of the pack—_She never was stuck at all, damn it!_—and turns to run into the trees. I reach for another knife.

The ground shudders, and I have to stop to catch my balance. Nine does, too, and then I see it: she's using both legs. She's not lame. It was all a trick, from the very beginning.

_That little…!_

My thoughts are cut off as the ground trembles more violently than before, and then there's a loud rumbling sound, like something massive is moving nearby…no, moving _beneath our feet!_

The rock splits between me and Nine in a wide, zigzagging crack, and then the ground under my feet shoots upward, while Nine's goes down. The sudden upward force shoves me to the ground, but as I try to get back up the rock tilts sideways and I roll, slamming against another outcrop which I could have sworn hadn't been there a moment ago. I sit up, my head spinning but focused enough to see that the entire area around the Cornucopia is now a shifting, splintering mass of rock spikes and irregular boulders, shooting upward, slamming downward, shaking and smashing.

Another enormous slab of rock narrowly misses my head as I rock forward to avoid it. To stay still is suicide; I have to keep moving or else I'll be crushed. And if this is entertaining the audience, then Nine and I could be stuck in this mess for a long time.

I haul myself around the rocks, jumping and diving, my leg screaming at me every time it hits a hard surface. I glimpse Nine a few times, struggling to stay unharmed an on her feet. The thought flashes through my mind that, if I can just get close enough to stick her with my last poisoned knife, the chaos will end.

As I try to direct my dodges towards Nine, the girl staggers up to the Cornucopia and places her hands on the ridged, golden surface. _Does she think she can climb it and avoid the rocks?_

The rock beneath her feet drops suddenly, and she stumbles, landing with her legs bent awkwardly. I'm thrown upward, but I aim my legs towards her and my feet plant firmly into her back as she tries to stand back up. She lets out a short shriek as she hits the ground again. I fall backwards, and she rolls over onto her back as I get up again. She's trapped against the Cornucopia, with the metal at her back and the terror in her eyes is just delicious. I grab a knife and stab at her chest, but she raises an arm in defense. I grin as the blade sinks into her skin, and she screams in pain.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District Nine**

Shimmer pulls the knife back towards her. It's covered with red liquid, and my left arm is, too. _Blood!_

I've been cut before, in hunting accidents, but never so deep. I clap my right hand over the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it won't do any good. She's just going to kill me now…

_So why isn't she?_

The girl from District One is just staring at me, grinning like a maniac. I blink tears away and look up and around at the violently shifting rocks, trying to figure it out and coming up empty-handed.

Shimmer's grin fades, and then she scowls, glancing down at the knife in her hand. "It's a normal one, damn it!" she snarls, tossing it aside and reaching for her belt. "No matter. You're dead this time!"

She grabs another knife, but suddenly time seems to slow down to a near halt, and there are two other voices screaming my name, urging me on, and I _can't ignore them!_

"_No!_" I shout, throwing myself forward and hitting her full in the chest. She tumbles backwards again, with me on top of her, and a rock slab smashes down onto her hand, the one holding the knife. She shrieks in rage and pain, and then there's a deafening crack as the ground beneath us splits. I catch a glimpse of something bright red far below, and then all of a sudden there's nothing holding us up, and I scream as we fall.

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**1G **Shimmer Argent **18**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor **15**


	20. The Heat of the Hunt

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

Shimmer kicks me away from her, but we're both falling, tumbling through the rocks that are falling alongside us. My panicking mind somehow registers that we're in a massive, underground cavern, which is lit from the distant floor with an eerie, red glow. There's light from the hole above us, too, but it's quickly receding…

…_but not as quickly as it ought to be…_

I look around. Me, Shimmer, the rocks—we're all falling slowly, like we're sinking through water instead of air. It's like gravity decided to get lazy. _Strange…_

My heartbeat slows down a bit. _I'm not going to die from falling, at least,_ I think as I hug my arm to my chest, trying to stop the bleeding and ignore the pain. Everything had been moving too quickly up there for me to even draw my hunting knife, which, thankfully, is still in my belt, although I've lost my backpack.

I wipe sweat from my forehead as I look over at Shimmer, who is a few yards to my right. She's glancing downward furtively as she nurses her right hand, and her leg is swathed in bandages. _All in all, she's more injured than I am now. I'll have an advantage once we get to the bottom of this cavern._

_Hopefully, she can't throw with her off hand…_

I'm relaxed, gliding downwards, surrounded by rocks, but I'm still sweating like crazy. _Why is it so hot all of a sudden? Shouldn't caves like this be cool because the sun doesn't shine this deep…?_

I look back at Shimmer, who is still staring downwards, fingering her knife—her last one, I think; at least I can't see any more from here—with her left hand. She glances over at me, scowls, and then quickly turns her gaze downwards again, drawing her knife.

There's a sinking feeling in my stomach, and it's not from the fall. I look down.

My heart begins to pound again.

"_Fluid fire, flowing flames…!_" I whisper. There _is _no bottom. The distant ground is a mass of seething, bubbling red liquid. Heat radiates up from it as strongly as if it were a forest fire in the summer. I've never seen it before, but in school once my teacher mentioned a hot, red liquid that encircled the Earth's core and sometimes spurted out of volcanoes in deadly, fiery floods.

Lava. The ground is lava. And we are falling right towards it.

**XXX**

**Shimmer Argent, 18, District 1**

Nine's eyes widen in fear and she mutters something under her breath. _It's about time she looked down!_

The fingers on my right hand are bent in many directions, and none of them are natural. My left hand's fine, though, and I'm just as deadly with that one.

Somehow, the Gamemakers have slackened gravity. Maybe with altered force field technology?

That's irrelevant right now. I have to kill Nine before we reach the lava, which is too close for comfort—the heat is _stifling_—and getting closer by the second. If I don't…

There's got to be a hovercraft on standby or something, waiting to pick up the Victor.

I swing my arm through the air, trying to determine how much my aim will be affected by the altered gravity. Nine draws her own knife, glancing at me warily as she grabs a stone out of the air with her other hand.

I laugh. "What are you going to do with _that?_" I call.

She shrugs. "Something," she mutters. "Anything. I can't do _nothing_."

"Yes, you can," I say. "You could do nothing, and wait to get burnt to a crisp. It would make my job a lot easier—not that I'm worried. You die up here or down there; it's all the same to me."

"You might land before I do," says Nine.

"Corpses are heavier," I reply, taking aim.

"_Your hair will burn,_" she says in a faraway voice, not seeming to notice.

"_Your skin will turn_

_A rotten shade of black,_

_Down to the bone._

_You'll scream and moan_

_As your life's taken back_

_Down to the place_

_That ends the race,_

_Where we're all running to._

_My allies and friends_

_Whose lives you did end_

_Are there, waiting for you…_"

"Shut up, forever!" I snap, whipping my left arm through the air and letting the knife, my last knife, sail towards her heart. It's moving slower than it usually would, but it's still fast enough to—

Nine draws her hands up close to her chest, trapping my blade between her rock and knife.

"Let's go down into the flames together, and we'll see who comes out alive," she calmly says.

I scream in fury as she throws my knife ahead of us, down towards the lava. It falls…

…and then it jerks sideways and skids in midair, as though it had landed on a hard surface, before falling again and dropping into the lava. A nearby rock does a similar dance, pausing in its descent and rolling before continuing downward.

Nine throws her rock. It falls, jerks, rolls, and stays still, resting on nothing.

Then my feet hit the invisible surface. The unexpected impact must hurt my injured leg, but I have so many cuts, breaks, and bruises, I don't seem to feel pain anymore. I don't feel much of anything anymore.

Nine squeaks in alarm as she lands in a sitting position, her feet hanging lower than the rest of her.

I don't need a knife to kill her. I'm Shimmer Argent, Winner of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games.

I. Will. Win.

**XXX**

**Kayla Rakkor, 15, District 9**

I slowly slide backwards, feeling around behind me as I pull my legs up. It's like I'm sitting at the edge of a cliff, with my legs dangling over the edge, except that I can't see the cliff. Am I sitting on glass? Or is it a force field? And is this the edge of the surface, or a hole? Are there more holes? Am I backing up right towards a hole?

Blood from my arm is dripping down to my palm, which is leaving sticky, red handprints on the invisible surface. At least I can tell that it's safe to place my feet _there_. The rest I'll have to guess.

I slowly stand. It's so disorienting, looking like I'm standing in midair. I try not to look down at the lava, but the incredible heat and the occasional _plunk _of a submerging rock reminds me of its existence. I shuffle my feet nervously, not daring to place too much weight on one limb, just in case that limb slides into a hole, and then…

_Don't think about it, Kayla! You're going to be fine._

_Keep your eyes on Shimmer, Kay. You can do this._

"Right," I reply. "Right. I can do this."

Somehow.

Shimmer's inching towards me, slightly stooped over, her hands slightly clenched. She reminds me of a bear or another predator on the hunt. It's in her stance, in her eyes. She's stalking me.

But I've been stalked before. And I have stalked, as well. We're both hunters here, in the woods, chasing down prey.

And I plan on bringing home the biggest kill tonight.

_That's it, Kay. It's just a hunt. Let's fill the quota._

"You were always the better hunter, Iceburg," I say, sliding around the hole I nearly fell through earlier.

_Not anymore._

_He's right, Kayla. You're the one who's still alive._

"You're not…?"

I hesitate. The sizzling pop of bubbles below me, the rumble of falling rocks above and around me, Shimmer in front of me. Bergamot and Anise aren't here. Or are they? _I keep thinking that I hear… that I see…_

A rock about the size of my fist falls right in front of me, dropping through to the lava, and I stop just in time to avoid stepping in the hole that it just alerted me to. I have to stay focused.

The falling rock gives me an idea, however…

Shimmer takes another step, dragging her injured leg along behind her. It doesn't seem to be taking any weight now. Funny, now _she's_ the one with a limp. _Now _she's_ the helpless prey._

I take a step to the side, tightening my grip on the hilt of my knife. Shimmer matches my move, confidently planting her feet firmly on the invisible surface. I'm not watching her, though—I'm watching the falling rocks. They're still coming down from the distant, crumbling ceiling. I watch them hit, bounce, and fall.

Shimmer's getting closer and closer, laughing as she does so. It's a low, haunting cackle. She reaches her right hand out towards me; her fingers are curled like claws, like the claws on her outfit at the parade, the crystal monster's claws, threatening to rip me to shreds.

I jump at the claws, at the _hands_, surprising Shimmer and knocking her off-balance. She cries out as her lame leg slides sideways, right into the hole that I knew was there.

The rest of her torso follows it.

I roll aside, stopping my tumble as quickly as I can. Shimmer screeches, but it's not her dying yell; I can still hear her labored breathing.

I turn around, hunched in a crawling position. Somehow, Shimmer had managed to grab the edge of the hole with her left hand. She was holding her weight up by one fist, her fingers curled around something neither of us could see. I begin to crawl over to her, slowly feeling around in front of me, one hand leaving blood, the other still holding on to my knife for dear life, much in the same way that Shimmer's holding on.

"No!" she cries in a voice that's somewhere between a grunt and a wail. "I'm the Victor! Me! This isn't how it's supposed to end!"

"You're wrong," I whisper, reaching the edge of her hole and staring down at her. "You're wrong. This is exactly how it's supposed to be, Shimmer. It's all according to the Plan."

"Not my plan!" she protests, trying to lift her lower arm, but she can't raise herself high enough to reach the surface with it. "This wasn't my plan!"

I frown slightly. "You're right. It wasn't your plan. Nor, in the end, was it mine. I never really expected to get this far, but now…"

I hesitate, raising my gaze to the distant, light space above that is the sunlight.

"_Here we stand, right on the brink_

_Of a world that I did not dare to think_

_Or hope—No, I did hope, for more,_

_For the chance to take the final score._

_To bring one joy, to rise above,_

_To feel, to live, to cry, to love._

_Who knows what's right, or what is real?_

_All we have is what we feel:_

_The sun's warm rays, the song of birds,_

_A friend's embrace and soothing words…"_

I turn my gaze back to Shimmer, look her in the eyes, and raise my knife.

"_The rush of blood, and hunger's pangs—_

_Now, doomed hunter, feel my fangs!_"

My blade slices through her fingers, dripping red onto the surface. She screams, an inhuman wail of a cry, and she lets go. The wail continues as she falls, finally ending when the lava covers her head.

For a moment, there's silence.

Then the cannon fires, its sound echoing through the cavern. Before it completely dies away, the trumpets begin to play.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Claudius Templesmith's voice booms. "I am pleased to present the victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games, Kayla Rakkor! I give you—the tribute of District Nine!"

The cheers of the Capitol viewers, blaring from speakers somewhere, are deafening, but they barely seem to touch my ears. I uncurl my fingers, which don't seem to have any strength in them anymore, from the knife and let it fall. It sinks into the lava and disappears. Just like Shimmer. I wonder if there's anything left of her to take back to District One.

It's strange how numb I feel. It's like I'm not even here. Someone else just won the Hunger Games, someone I've been watching on the television.

There's a ladder in front of me. I blink at it.

_Up you go, Kay, _Bergamot says, taking my hands and placing them on the ladder.

"I'm so tired," I whisper.

_You can rest for as long as you wish, Kayla, _Anise assures me, her lips gently brushing my cheek. _We'll watch over you._

The ladder sends a current through me, freezing me to it as it pulls me up into the hovercraft. The instant it lets me go again, I sag to the cool floor. It feels so nice against my hot skin.

Someone touches my arm, but I just want to lie down here forever, with Anise and Bergamot sitting next to me, keeping an eye out for hunters.

I don't want to worry anymore.

I just want to sleep…

**XXX**

**Remaining Tributes:**

**Tribute-**Name**-Age**

**9G **Kayla Rakkor **15**

**Victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games**

**A.N.: **Early reviewers seem to be under the impression that the story is over. _There will be more chapters. _There's still post-game, after all!


	21. For Every Action

**A.N.: **Hello, everyone!

What a ride it's been… Personally, I can't believe that we're out of the arena at last. The story isn't over, though. At the moment, I'm not entirely sure how far I'll go before I (probably) switch to a sequel about life after the Games. There may also be a fic about Vivienne, or about District Nine in general…or it will be a combination of the three… I'll let you know when I know for sure.

Before I continue on with this chapter, I'd like to put up some credits:

**Tribute Creators (in alphabetical order, by account name)**

A Type of Wallflower — Jude Paraux, Robin Sarabia

-ChloeWayland- — Erit Byrne, Icee Lightwood

Cosmo4ever — Sara Strickham

Hahukum Konn — Thera Adrastea

jedininjamellomaster — Bergamot "Iceburg" Palentia

Lanraja — Tam Penemue

'Luv-Rain' — Dalinder "Dally" Fernswith, Moh Kandeld, Luis Isofer, Bint Westley_*****_

Max Alleyne — Moira Jemsom

MewMewApple101 — Dawn Calder

_*****__Moh, Luis, and Bint were bloodbath names, with no character profile, supplied by 'Luv-Rain'__*****_

Thanks for the characters, everyone! I hope I wrote them well. Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and been supportive, and given me ideas! While I'm writing this, this story has just broken 100 reviews. That's more than any fan-fic I've written to date. Wow. Thanks again!

Now, the chapter...

**XXX**

The Head Gamemaker leans back in his chair in his private office, calmly taking sips from the cup of coffee in his hand. His job is finished for the year; now the control room is under the control of the Filmmaking Committee. He has little doubt that they will make a good recap; Kayla practically wrote a story for them herself.

His team now has a few days to sit back, relax, and be congratulated. After that…

The Head Gamemaker turns his chair towards a bookshelf and takes down a thick binder. He flips past pages of disjointed sentences and scribbles, diagrams and descriptions, pictures of forests and mountains and creatures of all shapes and sizes, until he finally comes to a blank page near the back of the binder. At the top of the page, he writes the number _48 _in black pen.

_Who can sit back when there's an arena to design? _he thinks, smiling to himself as he picks up a pen and begins to write.

**XXX**

"The damage is superficial, really," the doctor explains with a shrug. "The knife wound in her arm, a minor concussion from hitting her head on a rock… Most Victors come out much, much worse. We're still going to give her a full body polish to get rid of her extra scrapes, but she'll be camera-ready much more quickly than usual."

Vivienne nods, staring through the glass window at the girl on the hospital bed. Kayla looks so small and helpless now, motionless and asleep with hydration tubes stuck in her arm, not at all like someone who's just won the Hunger Games. Arrian would take care of that, no doubt. The time of her looking weak should be over.

The mentor closes her eyes. She's done it. Thirty years of bringing children to the arena, and she's finally bringing one home. District Nine has a third Victor to add to its list.

She wonders if her mentor, Bennett, watched the doctors put her back together, like she's watching Kayla now.

_He was probably off drinking himself into oblivion, _she silently answers her question. Bennett had won his Games and come back a lost cause, friend only to the barman in the town. Vivienne had had to take on the arena on her own; she'd had to figure out how to win on her own. After she'd won, Bennett had stopped mentoring, getting himself sick enough that not even the Capitol could force him to return, even though he had barely been in his twenties.

_I swore I'd never give up like him, _Vivienne thinks. _I swore that I'd never give up on the children; that I'd do everything that I could to get them home. Again and again I failed, but Kayla, dear Kayla, Kayla is coming home._

She thinks back to District Nine, which is probably in a state of happy chaos, trying to prepare for Kayla's homecoming celebrations. It had been absolutely hectic in her year, she remembers.

_Hopefully not too hectic now, _she silently adds, opening her eyes and looking at Kayla again. _She's in no state to handle too much excitement, even if she did just win. We rarely ever are, but she most certainly isn't._

_I'll have to carefully guide her home._

**XXX**

It's too hard to tell if I'm dreaming or awake anymore. I must have spent an eternity here, walking down hallways and running through the woods, following footsteps and voices that I vaguely recognize. Sometimes, I turn a corner and am rewarded with an embrace from Anise or a kind word from Bergamot. Others, I open a door to see Shimmer standing there, fangs bared and claws outstretched, more monster now than human. I am constantly worried, constantly stressed and in pain, trying to find my way out of the arena, out of the endless nightmare. I hear screams and sobs, but I do not know if they are my own.

When I open my eyes to find myself lying on a soft bed in a white room, I think that I'm out at long last, but I'm not certain, because Anise is standing at the foot of my bed.

_It's time to get up, Kayla._

"Are you really here?" I whisper, my voice coming out low and hoarse.

_I will always be here for you, Kayla, just as you were there for me._

"But I wasn't there," I protest. "I wasn't there, and they killed you."

Anise shakes her head. _None of that matters now. Get dressed and go meet your team. The door is over there._

She points at the wall, and I sit up to look where she indicated, but all that's there is a wall. I turn back to ask, and she's gone.

I get up, and my legs tremble but hold me. At the foot of the bed, right where Anise had been a moment ago—_or had she really been?_—is an outfit, a dark green, sleeveless, hooded shirt and black leggings. The clothes that Arrian took out of the package in the Launch Room; what we all wore in the arena. I don't want to put it on. I want to leave it there and go far away from it and get out of the arena. But it's here, and I'm naked, and Anise told me to dress, and so I dress. Then I walk over to the wall, which slides open to reveal a hallway. I step out into the hallway and turn my head to look in both directions, but no one's there.

Maybe I didn't wake up, after all, and this is just another hallway in the nightmare. I turn to go back to the bed, thinking that maybe I'll wake up if I go back to sleep.

"Kayla."

I look to my right, and someone's there, walking towards me down the hallway, the person who called my name. It's someone tall with long, silvery-brown hair, wearing a plain purple dress.

Vivienne. It's Vivienne.

My mentor extends a hand. "This way, Kayla," she says.

I slowly approach her, staring up at her cautiously. Is she real? Is any of this real? Or will she disappear, too?

When I reach her, she bends over and wraps her arms around me, holding me in a gentle but firm hug. She's big and warm and smells like the woods, like home.

_She's real._

"Well done," Vivienne whispers into my ear. "Very well done."

"I'm out now," I say, hardly able to believe it. "I'm really out now…"

"You are, Kayla." Vivienne holds me at arm's length, staring into my eyes with a calm determination. "You're out of the arena now. Remember that."

"It was hell in there," I say.

Vivienne nods and gives me a wry smile, wiping a tear off of my cheek. I hadn't even realized that I was crying.

"That just about sums it up," she says. "That's not what our friends in the Capitol like to hear, though, but we can talk all you want when we get home in a few days. All right?"

I nod, and she straightens, keeping a hand on my shoulder as she steers me into a large chamber at the end of the hallway. Two other people are here now: Minnie and Arrian. Very little is said—some congratulations from Minnie and a beckoning comment from Arrian—before my stylist takes me by the arm and leads me further down the hall and into an elevator.

"Where's Calpurnia?" I ask as he presses a button and the elevator begins to rise.

"Her job's done for the year," he says.

He doesn't have to say it; I know that her job ended with Bergamot. He didn't say it, though…because it would bother me? Yes, it would bother me. The fact that he doesn't say it makes me wonder at how calm and gentle everyone's been so far to me.

We exit the elevator and cross the darkened lobby of the Training Center. I guess the hospital was deep down, even below the underground gymnasium. Maybe it's as deep as the lava in the cavern. Maybe the cavern's around here somewhere, and the ground's about to fall out from under me and dump me into it.

I falter, staring at the cracks between the tiles in the floor, and Arrian gently tugs on my arm.

"This is the Training Center, Kayla," he says. "Not the arena."

I need the reminder. Has Vivienne been coaching him, then, about how to treat me?

Another elevator ride, this time up to the familiar ninth floor, where my prep team is waiting. They start forward quickly, but a glare from Arrian quiets them. I look over at him gratefully. I don't want any excitement, not now, not ever if I can help it.

Of course, I know that I can't. After a short, calm meal, my prep team starts to fix me up for the presentation. I close my eyes and let them move me from place to place, not resisting. I still don't feel entirely awake; this doesn't feel completely real yet.

I wonder if it ever will.

_Someday, it will, _Bergamot assures me. _Someday._

Since it's him talking, and most of my mind is assuring me that he's dead, I'm not sure if I can believe him.

Eventually, Arrian returns with a light gray dress, which he slides over my head and guides my arms through the sleeves. The fabric feels cool and silky against my skin. Arrian tucks my hair behind my ears, looks me over, and nods.

"Have a look at yourself," he says, turning me towards the mirror.

My mind immediately flashes back to the parade, where I had crouched pitifully in fur that was too large, a wounded pup surrounded by hunters. I'm a wolf again, but different. This dress hangs all the way to the floor, and the sleeves stop at my elbows, but it fits my form perfectly. It's silver in color, and as I straighten, the lights in the room reflect ever-so-lightly off of the moving fabric, which now I can see is lined and textured very faintly. I've seen this light effect before: it's how moonlight shines off of a wolf's silver-furred back. Even my hair has a similar gleam; it's been brushed until it shines and left flowing down my back.

My fingernails have been painted with an off-white polish, with tiny yellow and brown flecks. I shift the dress to see that my feet are bare and my toenails painted the same way. They seem dirty, almost, but in a good way. They're claws, wolf claws. Not pointed and sharp like Shimmer's, like a monster's, but these are claws that have hunted.

I lift my gaze back to my reflection, to my face, which has just the barest touch of makeup around my eyes. I meet my gaze steadily.

"What do you think?" Arrian whispers.

What do I think?

"_Not what I was another day:_

_Graceful hunter, not the prey._"

Arrian nods and smiles.

"I'd hoped so," he says. "Are you ready to go down to the stage?"

The wolf-woman in the mirror nods. She's ready.

I'm ready.

Arrian leads me back to the elevator, down to the level of the gymnasium. He takes me into a small, dark room, where he maneuvers me over to a metal plate on the floor, which he has me stand on. Then he gives my hand one last squeeze and walks away into the shadows.

I can hear the noise of the crowd above me. It's deadened, but it must be deafening. They're all here to see the show. And not just them; there will be thousands, millions more, watching from all over Panem. Men, women, and children. Capitol citizens. District people. District Nine people. Townies and Woodsies.

My mother and father. My schoolmates.

Thalia.

She'll be watching, too. Watching the girl who outlived her love. Watching me.

I tense as the urge to flee, to run off into the darkness, to find my way out takes over my mind. _I can't do this. I can't go out there. I just can't..._

_You can. You must! Stay strong, Kayla!_

The voices above, the voices in my head. It's too much, too much.

Too much.

A pair of hands firmly grip my shoulders, and I jump, crying out. A voice hushes me. Vivienne.

"It's all right," she says, her voice barely discernable above the rumble of the crowd above us. "It's all right. You're the hunter, remember. You said so yourself, back in the arena, remember?"

"I did…" I can't even hear my own voice, but Vivienne seems to, or at least she sees my mouth move.

"And you were right. You are the hunter. You've always been the hunter. Remember that, Kayla. Please remember. Find that thing that keeps you going and hold on tight to it. If not for you, then for me. Find it for me, and hold on tight. Can you do that?"

Can I do that? Can I go out there, for Vivienne? Big, strong, alive Vivienne?

Yes. Yes, I can.

I don't have time to tell her, because the anthem begins to play, and Caesar Flickerman's voice booms, bidding the audience welcome. Vivienne lets go of my shoulders and hurries away, disappearing into the gloom. I want to call after her, to beg her not to leave me, but I can't, I know I can't. She has to go out there before me. And I have to be strong, for her. I have to be the hunter.

I look the role, don't I? I stand straighter, giving the darkness a silent nod. Yes, I believe I do.

I hear my prep team, Minnie, Arrian, and Vivienne get presented to the crowd in turn, to thunderous applause.

What _is _the thing that keeps me going, anyway? And do I have it? I have to find it, and find it quickly.

The metal plate beneath my bare feet pushes upward, and I am lifted up to the stage. I make a blind grab with my mind, grasping something close to my heart and holding it tight. I'm not sure what it is, nor do I have the time to figure it out.

For a moment, all I can see is white as the lights hit my face. Then I see the crowd, the screaming, yelling crowd. Hundreds and hundreds of delighted people right here, and millions more elsewhere. I calmly turn to face them all. My gaze is steady, my movements unwavering. I nod. The crowd goes wild.

Caesar extends a hand, which I take in my own. He leads me towards the victor's chair, and I gracefully follow, sitting up straight in the ornate chair.

The lights dim and the Capitol seal appears on the massive screen hanging from one of the nearby buildings. We are about to see the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games in summation, beginning to end, the tale of my victory and the others' deaths.

Again, something inside of me squirms and wants to flee. I dig my fingers into the arms of my chair, willing myself to stay seated, to stay strong, but it's just too hard. I can't.

The screen's gone. Ahead of me I see outstretched hands, Anise's and Bergamot's. Part of me wants to take them, but I'm afraid to. They're dead.

I remember Vivienne's plea, and I tighten my grip on my strength.

Hold on tight. Hold on tight.

The show begins.

I watch as she screen slides through the reaping, parade, training scores, and interviews, with this sort of mystic melody playing in the background. I appear again and again, determinedly stumbling along and looking generally pathetic, but the cameras pick out others, too: Shimmer confidently striding forward to volunteer. Anise stoically keeping her gaze on the chariot in front of her during the parade. Bergamot's "nine" for training. Briar dancing during his interview.

Then comes a scene that startles me and makes me sit forward in my seat, staring up intensely at the screen. There's me, standing at the edge of the roof of the Training Center, the setting sun providing just enough light to show Anise standing next to me.

"_Whatever happens, in the end we'll be safe,_" I'm saying. "_Good and safe, where no one can hurt us, or challenge us, or force us to face the deep, dark things that make us fear. We'll be fine, Anise. You'll be fine._"

Anise turns to face me, and I caress her cheek, wiping away her tears.

_Good and safe, where no one can hurt us._

Did I really say that, back then, at the party? Did I really believe it?

Yes, I believed it. It gave me strength. And I still do.

The fearful thing inside of me quiets and settles. I lean back in my chair, and the screen shifts to the bloodbath.

Now, I'm watching things that I've never seen before. The cameras follow me as I drop off the mountain and climb down to my private little ledge, and then they forget about me for a while, showing Shimmer and her pack slice, stab, and smash. Anise grabs Briar out of the way of Shimmer's knife. Bergamot grabs the bow and arrows right from under Thera's nose and flees into the trees. Landon watches his girlfriend die in front of him and loses his head, practically running himself into Phenom's sword.

Then, the screen mostly follows Shimmer as her pack hunts. There's a dramatic standoff with Bergamot, which is cut short by the attack of a massive black spider, which seems to give Shimmer's knives an even more deadly quality through its poison. Shimmer taunts gentle Moira of Five as venom seeps through the dying girl's veins. Little Ashley of Four manages to kill her district partner, Lucas, before Thera and Phenom slice her in two, spilling her blood rather artfully into the waterfall she'd been hiding behind. The spiders make a comeback, but the Careers prevail, albeit losing Phenom along the way. I suddenly appear again, trying to drop a rock on the Careers and failing to hit anyone. Jude and Robin of Seven stalk Briar and Dally, the friendly girl from Twelve, killing her while he escapes.

Bergamot runs through the forest, stopping to look over his shoulder, then starting again, sprinting out of the trees and across a clearing. Robin leaps out and tackles him, knocking him to the ground. I'm on my feet before I even realize that I am, reaching out to him, calling out to him, as Jude's axe enters his stomach. Then I'm there on the screen, reaching up and calling his name then, too. The me on the screen sags to the ground, and a sort of tremor goes through my body as I begin to speak. They play my farewell in full. The me on the screen turns and walks away, and I sit back down, too.

Then comes the earthquake, and suddenly Anise and I are the center of attention, as she slowly warms to my touch, and pours her heart out to me, and I comfort her with words. It's such a beautiful moment—there's not a sound from the crowd before me—and I can't believe it's me up there. It must be someone else, someone wonderful and strong.

In the dim light of pre-dawn, I see Anise wake up, ease herself out of my arms without waking me up, and give me a quiet kiss good-bye.

I see me sit up, my cave now fully lit in mid-morning, and my eyes widen as I find that she's gone.

I see Robin holding Briar to the ground at the edge of a cliff, Jude raising his axe above his head. I hear Briar's protests, Robin's taunts.

I see Anise sprinting through the trees. I see her grab Jude and Robin.

I see them fall.

I scream.

Everything starts to move so quickly, I can barely keep up. Briar sets an elaborate snare trap and kills Carn. Thera kills Briar, slicing through his neck. Shimmer duels Thera and wins, but she leaves with a limp.

Then I'm stumbling through the woods, crying and talking and looking generally upset, until Vivienne sends me the knife. I watch as a change comes over the lost girl on the screen. She changes in that moment, shifting from prey to hunter.

I have to remind myself that it's me on the screen.

_That's the story that they're trying to tell this year_, I realize. _My growth from prey to hunter. But did I grow into something better?_

Shimmer and I meet at the Cornucopia, and then everything gets chaotic again. We're dodging rocks and throwing knives and tumbling towards lava. It's as surreal now as it was then. Time loses all meaning as I watch us; it's like we're dancing, the hunters' dance.

Then Shimmer's hanging by her fingertips, and I'm snarling my final phrases down towards her helpless form. I slice through her fingers, she falls, and Claudius Templesmith's voice announces my victory.

It's over, just like that.

The anthem begins to play again, and I stand as President Snow steps out onto the stage, followed by a little girl who's holding a cushion. The President takes the crown, a silver circlet—did they mean to match my dress on purpose?—and places it on my head, smiling at me. I bow my head and curtsy deeply, the graceful wolf-woman taking over again. The crowd goes wild.

The evening becomes a blur of voices and faces and hands, with me squirming between wanting to flee and boldly staying put. It's too noisy, too exciting, too chaotic, too exhausting. Vivienne appears now and again, a reassuring grin on her face, which helps to keep me calm.

Once or twice, I think I see Anise turning my way, or Bergamot reaching out to shake my hand, but I don't dare think about them too much, lest they become real, lest I join them in death.

I lose all track of time. Finally, I find myself in bed, Vivienne tucking me in.

"Don't go," I whisper.

"I won't," she replies.

"Don't leave me to face it all alone," I plead, despite her reassurance.

For some reason, this makes her pause, an odd expression on her face.

"I'll stay right here," she says as my eyelids drift shut. "I promise."


	22. Sunrise

I wake up with the dawn sunlight through the window, and I blink at the white ceiling. There's an odd familiarity here. I've woken in this bed, in this room, in this way before, with bad memories seeping into my mind, fresh from the day before.

I sit up and turn my head to the left to see Vivienne sitting in a chair she must have had an Avox fetch, right next to my bed. She's fast asleep, her head resting in one hand. She'll be stiff when she wakes up.

_But she stayed._

_Of course she stayed, Kayla. We all stayed._

I turn my gaze to the bedspread, not looking up at the boy and girl who I know I will see standing there, if I were to look.

_Why don't you look, Kay? We're here to help you._

Because I can't look. Because what I need most now is reality, and they can't be real.

_Don't you trust us, Kayla?_

And the voice, her voice, is so heartbroken and sad that I have to look up at her, the dark-skinned girl, and at the tan-skinned boy beside her. She's dressed as we were in the arena, with the dark green, sleeveless, hooded shirt and black leggings. He's wearing the clothes he wore at the Reaping, the green tunic with the animal patterns.

_Don't you trust us? _they ask me.

"I don't know!" I cry, a strange sort of shudder passing through my body as I realize how truthful that claim is. "I just don't know!"

"Kayla?"

A hand rests on my arm. Vivienne's.

"How… How many people are in this room?" I ask, turning my head to face her. She won't lie to me; I know she won't.

"Who do you think is here?"

Why is she asking me? I look around the room again. They're gone.

"No one," I reply. "There's no one else. Just you and me."

Vivienne's grip tightens for a moment; the pressure is reassuring.

"Let's go," she says. "You've got an interview in a few hours. Then we can go home. Just stay strong for one more day, and then I'll take care of the rest, okay?"

"Okay."

And then there's another long period of bathing and makeup and prep, and while my prep team's still relatively sedate, they talk just enough to distract me from thinking about the boy and girl who may or may not have been in my room.

Of course, they're talking about the upcoming interview, which turns my thoughts in other unpleasant directions, such as what the heck I'm going to say out there. I don't want to talk about the Games. I just want to go home.

By the time Arrian comes in with my dress, I'm so worried I'm nearly trembling.

"You won't be a wolf today," he tells me as he helps me into the green fabric. "But I think that this should be a pleaser anyway."

When I look at myself in the mirror, all I can think of is the forest. The main part of the dress is a dark green, not unlike the arena outfit, but there are many almost-see-through layers over my legs, of different colors, lighter shades of green and yellow that overlap, filtering the light in the room, giving me the impression of sunlight and shadows on the leaves of trees. Small, white flowers have been woven through my hair.

I think that I look very pretty, but it's not something that I can appreciate at the moment.

"Are you ready?" Arrian asks me.

I shake my head. "Arrian, what am I going to say out there? What story do I tell now?"

My stylist adjusts a flower. "Just be honest," he replies. "Answer his questions with how you feel. Your honesty has earned you acclaim from your viewers."

"I've never been honest," I protest. "From the very beginning, I was a living lie. Nothing I said to Caesar, about my life, my leg, none of that was true. Everything I did in front of an audience was a façade."

"That's different," Arrian says. "Once you entered the arena, the façade fell away. Was the poem honoring Bergamot also a lie? Were the things you said later, when you confronted Shimmer, also lies?"

I shake my head, slowly this time.

"You can be endearing when you lie," my stylist says, his voice lowered to a whisper, right in my ear. "But when you're honest, you're beautiful."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, are you ready?"

I nod. "Yes."

Arrian takes me down the hall, back to the sitting room, where the interview will take place. There isn't a live audience this time. _That may make it easier, _I think as I manage to give Caesar Flickerman a small smile as he shakes my hand and points me towards the victor's chair, which has been moved up here. I sit down, and Caesar sits in a chair facing mine. I can see Vivienne, Arrian, and Minnie standing behind the cameras.

"We are on in five," one of the cameramen says, holding up five fingers. "Four…Three…" he continues, lowering his fingers one by one, the last two without speaking.

Caesar does some sort of upbeat introduction, but I'm still watching my team. I only turn to face my interviewer when I see Vivienne look pointedly at him.

"…only the third victor from District Nine, Kayla. How does that make you feel?"

What do I say? Be honest, be honest.

"Shocking," I say. "Unbelievable. It's like it's not me sitting here. It's like I'm still at home, watching this girl on television."

"Too good to be true, right?" Caesar prompts, and I nod. "I'll say. You've certainly taken us all for a ride. Starting with your fake limp. You must have worked a long time to perfect that."

"Since I was twelve," I say. "I had this Plan, my plan in case I ever got Reaped. I'd pretend to be useless so that no one would focus on me."

"It certainly served you well."

I shrug. "I ended up all alone on a little cliff for days. No one was hunting me. The limp didn't do much. I kept doing it out of habit."

"That was clever of you, finding that alcove. What made you think to try climbing?"

"I've done a lot of climbing trees at home, so climbing was an option anyway. The rocks looked stable enough, and there were plenty of handholds. And I thought that, if there was something to find back there, the odds were low that someone would come chasing after me. I just needed…a backpack…"

I trail off, knowing what topic will come next, now that I've gone and brought it up.

"And Bergamot gave you that backpack," Caesar says. "Were you expecting that?"

I shake my head, biting my lip, fighting back tears that threaten to flow. I will be strong. One more day. One more day.

"So you didn't have any alliance arranged with him or anything?"

I shake my head again. "No. He… He knew the limp was fake. Before the arena, he told me… He wanted to make things fair, because he knew my secret. He was a good guy."

Now I really think I'm going to cry. I look down at my lap. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Caesar nod sympathetically.

"Let me tell you, Kayla, while I'd admired your poetry at the pregame interviews, your tribute to Bergamot after his death made me cry. Just how do you come up with such words?"

I look back up at him, trying to think of an answer.

"I'm not sure," I say. "I think of things, nice things, sad things…and then I just speak, and it's like the words say themselves."

"The words do seem to have a sort of magic to them," Caesar says. "A spellbinding effect. But after that, things began to get a bit exciting, now didn't they?"

I nod. "I woke up, and the mountain was falling on me."

"It was quite the rude awakening," Caesar chuckles, and I smile a bit. "Just what was going through your head?"

"I thought, 'This is it. I'm dead.' Nothing fancy, just… 'I'm dead.'"

"But you weren't dead."

"No… I wasn't…"

"Anise's rescue was probably the most heart-stopping moment I've experienced in all the years I've held these interviews."

I nod. "She saved me. I just wish…"

My voice trails off, and the sentence gets caught in my throat.

"What do you wish, Kayla?" Caesar prompts.

"I wish…I could have…returned the favor…" I manage to choke out.

"I'm sure you do," says Caesar, reaching out and patting my arm. "You two seemed to form an instant bond. I just want to know, what did you see in her?"

I have to think again, and when I finally speak, the words are soft.

"_She was a young girl, just like me._

_She was in pain, that I could see,_

_But not from some external threat;_

_It was her mind that was upset._

_And at the time, I didn't know_

_What the cause was. She didn't show._

_I want—still want—to give her aid_

_That debt now cannot be repaid._"

I look up. Caesar's taken out a handkerchief and is wiping his eyes. Vivienne's nodding slowly.

"I should think that you repaid her, indeed," Caesar continues once he's recovered. "You gave her food and company, and then you went on to defy all odds and win the Hunger Games!"

"I defied my own odds most of all," I say. "I didn't think I'd win for a long time, after Anise…but then…well, I guess I got a confidence boost."

"And where did that come from?"

"From Vivienne," I say.

"From your mentor?" I nod. "Was it the knife she sent you?"

"Yes," I say. "We use knives like that in District Nine, to hunt. I knew how to use it. I'd forgotten that I was a hunter. Vivienne reminded me."

"And just in time for the final showdown between you and Shimmer, too!" Caesar says. "Just what was going through your mind when the ground fell out from under you?"

"Not much," I admit. "I just threw myself at Shimmer, and, well, we were falling. Slowly. It was more weird than frightening, actually."

"What about the lava?" Caesar presses.

I shrug. "By that point, Shimmer was out of knives, and I was out of tricks. It looked like everything was up to fate. But then I dropped the knife, and it hit that clear surface, so I knew that I still had a chance. A slim chance, but a chance. And I took it."

"You most certainly did," says Caesar. "And we're all very proud of you. You know, most viewers didn't think that they'd see you sitting here today when you were reaped."

"That's okay," I say. "I didn't, either. But here I am."

"Here you are!" Caesar laughs, turning to the cameras. "It just goes to show that there will always be people who can surprise us! This is Caesar Flickerman, thanking you for watching and wishing Kayla Rakkor, the victor of the Forty-Seventh Hunger Games, a safe ride home! I'll see you at the Victory Tour!"

"Cut!" says a cameraman.

It's over. Vivienne's at my side almost immediately, which I'm grateful for. Whatever confidence I'd mustered up for the cameras is quickly slipping away. I smile and nod as people come by and congratulate me, but Vivienne quickly excuses us, saying that we have a train to catch.

After a ride in an elevator, a car with darkened windows, and a quick farewell to Arrian at the train station, I'm on the moving train, through the mountain tunnels, and out of the Capitol.

I stand by a window at the rear of the train car, staring back at the receding mountains and the Capitol they conceal. I'm leaving. It's gone. I'm out.

_I'm out._

Then I turn around.

And I see the two people standing behind me.

They reach out towards me.

_Kayla, Kay, wait—_

I scream and bolt, shoving past them and running down the hall, towards the front of the train, as far away from the Capitol, the arena, and the Hunger Games as I can get. I run as fast as I can; I scream as loud as I can. _Whatever it takes to get away…!_

Someone steps in my way and grabs me. I shriek and struggle, trying to break free, to keep running.

"Kayla! _Kayla!_"

Vivienne. That's Vivienne's voice. She's the one holding me. I stop struggling, holding her as tightly as she's holding me.

"It's them!" I gasp.

"It's who, Kayla?" Vivienne asks me. "Who is it?"

"B-Bergamot and Anise! They're here! They're still here! But they're dead! They're dead! _They're dead!_"

Vivienne sits down on the floor of the train, cradling me in her arms.

"Make them go away," I sob. "I want to get out of the arena. I want to get out… Make them go away…"

Vivienne says nothing, but she holds me close as I cry into her chest. Her silence itself is an answer. She can't make the specters go away. No one can.

I'm out of the arena, but some part of me never left.

And it never will.

**XXX**

Vivienne pulls back the blinds, leaving the window open. It's still dark outside the train, but the sky near the horizon has a purple tint. She then walks over to the bed and gently nudges the girl lying in it, waking her.

Kayla's eyes slowly open. "Are we home?"

"Not quite yet," Vivienne replies. "But I want you to see something. Come here."

The mentor helps the tribute, now her fellow victor, out of the bed, taking her hands in her own and guiding her across the room to stand in front of the window.

"Look out there," she says.

"There's nothing out there, Vivienne," Kayla says.

"Are you sure?" Vivienne asks. Kayla nods. "Look again."

The fifteen-year-old turns her face to the window, to the distant horizon, just as the bright orange sun peeks out from beneath the ground. She watches as it makes its slow climb upward, casting its light on more and more of the grass and the trees.

"The sun always rises," Vivienne says. "Sometimes, it doesn't seem like there's much in this world you can count on. This, you can. It's a new day, Kayla. It's a chance to go forward. I can't promise you peace and security for all the days of your life, as much as I may wish that I could, but this I _can_ promise you: There will always be another day, and there will always be someone there to face it with you."

Kayla's eyes are shining in the sunlight.

"_Arise, my lord,_" she whispers. "_And wipe away the blood._"

Vivienne places a hand on her shoulder.

The two victors of District Nine watch the sun ascend into the lightening blue sky.

_**Finis**_


End file.
